Darkest Witch of Her Age
by darkrose0510
Summary: Hermione was known as the brightest witch of her age, but time and circumstances would soon change that. Who will survive a brilliant mind's descent into darkness? A dark Hermione fic'.
1. Frustration

My first attempt at a Potterverse fic', this should be fairly long, but it will take a while for me to finish it... my writting speed varies wildly (chapter 1 took a day, 3 took almost a month, 4 was done in a couple of hours), so I make no promises on how long between chapters. But here's the first lot of them to get you started.

This starts off in the summer before Goblet of Fire, and is somewhat of a cross between the book, the movie, and my own insane ramblings.

The only time I'll say it: I don't own Harry Potter, I'm just playing in J.K. Rowling's sandbox.

**Darkest Witch of Her Age**

Chapter 1.

Three weeks in the muggle world was enough to send anyone mad, Hermione decided as she lay in bed at her parent's house. Unfortunately, with their current 'a break from magic would be good for you sometimes' mood she didn't see that changing anytime soon. She'd just finished reading her school books for next year, and now she needed something more. Maybe the time turner from last year had spoiled her; taking what amounted to two years of classes in one had been exhausting even for the ever-studious young witch. But if anything her desire to learn had only grown with the extra workload. So now she was stuck with no new books, and no way to get more - if the argument with her parent's when she'd brought up a trip to Diagon Alley was anything to go by. Grumbling to herself she rolled over and attempted to get some sleep.

It was later than usual when Hermione went downstairs to fix herself some breakfast, padding into the kitchen she found her parents had already left for work, but she found a book shaped gift waiting for her on the dining room table. Quickly unwrapping it she flopped down into a chair in disappointment, 'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare' may have excited her a few years ago, but now the muggle poet wasn't at all the sort of thing she took much interest in. Her mood was not at all improved a few minutes later, when she managed to cut herself while chopping up some fruit. In shear frustration from not being able to just whip out her wand to fix a simple cut, she ended up breaking the glass front of the dining room sideboard when she threw the offending apple across the room.

Twenty minutes later a still somewhat grumpy Hermione made her way to the nearest tube station, having well and truly decided that she just had to get away from that house for the day.

* * *

Hermione sneezed as she pulled out another dust laden book from a dark corner of Flourish and Blotts; while most of the shop was brightly lit and full of people, she'd come across this little seen nook at the back and decided to look through it. She'd already found a number of interesting books on several topics, though was having to be more selective than she'd have liked due to her small budget.

The books didn't seem to be in any particular order, she noted while wiping off the cover of 'Advanced Spellcraft, Second Edition' which she'd found right next to a book of poetry. Looking through her find she came across a number of spells which were not in the fourth edition of the title she'd read at Hogwarts the year before. Sighing with disappointment she realised that - along with the copy of 'Ester Hamshoy's Guide to Obscure and Forgotten Potions' - she really couldn't afford any more with the few Galeons she had on her. Unless she skipped lunch of course, which was tempting, but she'd already missed breakfast after the fruit debacle that morning, and she'd found she could study better after a meal.

So dusting herself off and paying for the books, Hermione found her way outside to the ever bustling Diagon Alley and looked about in search of somewhere quiet to eat; and maybe read through her new books in peace. She'd just stepped into the street when she was shoved from behind, sending her sprawling over the cobble stones. The sound of the laugh told her who the culprit was even before she heard the hissed "filthy mudblood." Fortunately, a familiar shock of red hair stepped in front of Draco's scowl and proceeded to thoroughly - and rather passionately - tell the boy off.

"Are you ok?" a soft voice asked, and Hermione turned to find Ginny Weasley kneeling beside her with a concerned look.

"Yeah, thanks Ginny," Hermione answered only slightly less miserably than she felt, as she collected her books back from the younger witch. She gave a small smile as she got back on her feet, but then let out a laugh as a worried Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a much needed hug.

"Are you sure dear?" The older Weasley asked, while trying not to be obviously checking her over for injuries.

Hermione smiled. "Really, I'm fine, I've had worse from Harry and Ron just being, well, Harry and Ron." Ginny giggled, and Mrs. Weasley shook her head in exasperation at the two boys who were most likely lucky not to be within earshot at this moment. "So what are you up to?" Hermione asked after a moment.

"Oh, Fred used up the last of the beetle eyes last night in some project he and George've been working on," Mrs. Weasley answered fondly with an amused sparkle in her eye over whatever trouble the two of them were up to now. "Thought I'd best stock up again in case we need them." Spotting the books in Hermione's hand she asked, "getting your school books early?"

"No, well, I've already got my school books," Hermione answered shyly. "But I just... mum and dad are on this whole 'a break from magic will be good for you' kick or something, and I just needed to get away from the whole muggle thing for a while before I went completely mad!" She took a deep breath to calm down, then smiling a bit, continued "So I found a couple of books, and thought I'd just find somewhere quiet to eat and read."

"You could come back to the Burrow with us if you like dear," Mrs. Weasley asked kindly.

"And you can use my desk," Ginny offered when Hermione looked about to come up with a reason not to. "The boys won't bother you in my room."

With her excuse taken away by the now smugly grinning Ginny, Hermione just shrugged. "I really need to be back home before five though."

With the decision made, the three witches made their way into the Leaky Cauldron - dragging Ginny out of Quality Quidditch Supplies on the way - when Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione if she wanted to stay for dinner as well. After much discussion, some pleading about too many boys in the house, and some blatant bribes, Hermione found herself out on the streets of muggle London looking for a phone. She figured she'd best ask her parents, though wasn't particularly hopeful.

The two Weasleys kept their distance as Hermione used the device. Well aware of her dad's - rather disastrous - experiments with the things, Ginny nervously poked her head around the corner of the building to see Hermione slamming something against something else and stepping out of the little red booth. "She's coming back now mum." As they stepped back out onto the street, they saw Hermione coming toward them with a frown, which she hid - mostly - when she saw them nearby.

"I um, I either need to be back home by five, or I have to spend the night. Mum said she doesn't want me out late," Hermione said, eyes searching around the street for something, before looking at Mrs. Weasley with a slightly pleading expression.

* * *

Aside from the occasional shaking from whatever Fred and George were up to, Ginny's room was a good place to relax over a book, Hermione decided as she took some notes from the Advanced Spellcraft book she'd bought that morning. The room wasn't entirely to her taste of course - with the quidditch posters all over the walls - but the overall feel of the Weasley home was just what she needed right now.

She got so deeply absorbed in her reading that she didn't even notice when Ginny came in the room just after sunset. The resulting squeak, jump, and slamming shut of the book had Ginny in a fit of giggles.

"Mum sent me up, dinner's ready." Ginny said a when she was able to speak again.

Hermione followed Ginny downstairs after putting her book away, along with the parchment she'd been writting on. As she approached the table appeared to be utter chaos, with food making it's way to the centre as several conversations carried on and a wooden spoon floated above it all, smacking away the occasional hand trying to get an early taste.

"Hermione!" Ron called happily as he saw her, this was followed by a chorus of similarly friendly hellos from around the table.

Standing in the doorway a moment, Hermione looked at Ron, then let out a polite "Hello" before walking to the seat Mrs. Weasley pointed out to her. Dinner continued in the same disorderly manner, and Hermione found herself getting involved in discussions about anything. She even found herself talking about quidditch at one point, as she tried her best to ignore Ginny's tale to Mr. Weasley about Hermione using a phone - and the subsequent questions.

"Would you just shut up about the bloody muggles!" She finally snapped out at Mr. Weasley as he again asked her some question or other about the device. The whole table went silent as everyone looked at the young witch. "Sorry," she explained quietly after a moment as she sagged in her seat. "I just really wanted a muggle-free day for once."

Everyone was a little quieter after that, though the conversions did continue and gradually pick up again.

After dinner Hermione ended up reading some of her Obscure Potions book in the living room. Ginny was challenging her dad to a game of wizard's chess nearby, while Mrs. Weasley read some well worn romance novel as she kept an eye on a jumper knitting itself in the corner of the room. The twins were clearly up to something as they'd disappeared almost as soon as everyone had finished eating, Ron had apparently either joined them, or was hiding in his room before Hermione could talk him in to doing some school reading.

All in all it was a most relaxing night, Hermione decided later as she lay in the spare bed in Ginny's room. Despite how the day had started it had turned out rather well.

* * *

The next morning started out much better than the previous one had. Hermione sat in the garden reading more of her Advanced Spellcraft book as Mrs. Weasley pottered about in her usual manner. They both looked up occasionally when Ron and Ginny's two person quidditch match came close enough to the ground to be seen more clearly. She wasn't so in need of solitude today, and it was nice out here with a little chatter from Mrs. Weasley and the sounds of a quaffle being thrown about above them.

"What time do you need to be home today?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she stood up and dusted her hands off.

Hermione let out a long breath, and looked up from her book before answering, "sometime before dark I suppose. Mum doesn't want me out at night," or at all she added silently. She wasn't sure what she'd be facing when she finally got home, her parents hadn't wanted her to go anywhere the day before. But after the argument over the phone the where she'd ended up hanging up on her mum and disappearing to the Weasley's for the night, she was more nervous than she'd thought possible. The idea of being in trouble wasn't something she was used to, but she'd been keeping herself too busy to really think about it.

By the time lunch had passed in the usual disorderly - but happy - way that all meals at the Weasley home seemed to, Hermione was starting to feel her nerves. So she ended up not staying too much longer before saying her goodbyes and flooing back to the Leaky Cauldron. The bustle of the underground was enough that it wasn't until she stepped back up to street level just down the road from her parents' house that she felt her stomach turn again. She paused as she saw both her parents' cars parked outside their home, but taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders she walked up to the front door; trying to ignore the family of squirrels that seemed to be playing quidditch in her stomach.

The screech of "HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!" as she opened the front door did not bode well at all.


	2. Rush

Hermione felt like hugging the gleaming red train as she stepped onto platform nine and three quarters 6 weeks later. The argument with her parents the day she'd returned from the Weasley's had not been the last of the summer, though it was certainly the worst. By the time she'd slammed her bedroom door she'd ended up both wandless and grounded for the entire summer break. She supposed that some of the things she'd called them hadn't helped at all, but she was just so mad when they'd taken her wand off her that the words had escaped before she could stop herself.

Other than an - accompanied - trip to Diagon Alley a few days previous to get her school supplies she'd been almost completely without magic. Almost because fortunately they hadn't taken her books away, so she'd spent as much of the summer as she could learning every last detail of all the spells and potions in her two new books. Her mum hadn't been at all happy to find her in the garden practicing the motions with a pencil standing in for her confiscated wand, but she'd let it go.

She was now ever so happy to make her way along the corridors in search of her friends, as the Hogwarts Express took her away for another year of school.

* * *

"This is horrible," Hermione spoke up as she read the copy of The Daily Prophet Ron had given her. "My stupid parents, I can't believe I didn't hear about this!"

"At least you weren't there," Ron offered, "was bloody terrifying."

"Why haven't the Ministry done anything? Didn't they even have security?" She continued passionately. A few quiet moments passed as she finished reading the article, then looked up at Harry and asked "Have you told Sirius yet?"

He scratched his scar for a moment, the shook his head.

"It's hurting again isn't it?"

"I'm fine." He assured her unconvincingly.

"Harry! With your scar flaring up and the dream you can't just forget about it!" She shook the paper at him before continuing, "You know he'd want to hear about this; what you saw at the world cup, and the dream!" She encouraged him, then letting out a frustrated huff at his lack of response she added, "Merlin Harry, you're useless! You don't even think about these things do you?"

"Easy on Hermione," Ron started but was cut off by the frustrated young witch.

"Oh shut it Ron, you're just as bad." She snapped as she stood. "I'm going to go change into my robes, you can do what you want, like always."

Hermione paused just out of sight as she heard Ron whisper "They're scarier when they get older."

Clenching her jaw she stormed off down the corridor.

* * *

Hermione sat with her dorm-mates in the Great Hall, not in the mood to deal with the two boys. She watched the sorting and cheered with the rest of the table whenever a new Gryffindor was selected. Then sat up as Professor Dumbledore stood to give his usual start of term speech. There was a flurry of chatter as the TriWizard Cup was announced, followed by screams of outrage at the age limit. Everyone quietened down a few minutes later, with just occasional oohs and ahhs at the flashy entrances of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.

The excitement cooled a little as the feast began, and the girls continued to talk amongst themselves. The TriWizard Championship, and the entrance of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were topics at the top of the list of course, but other things passed between them too. Hermione's mood slipped slightly when Lavender asked what she'd been up to over the summer break, but after a quick answer about a trip to Diagon Alley and reading some new books, Hermione turned the question back on Lavender.

As the night grew late the four girls made their way back through the Gryffindor common rooms to their dormitory. Glad to be back, Hermione drifted off to the most peaceful sleep she'd had in months.

* * *

When classes started up again Hermione found herself getting lost in her studies as usual, her class load wasn't as full as the previous year so she didn't need a time turner to keep up with them; but she still spent a great deal of time in the library. Her friendship with Ron and Harry was perhaps not as close as it had been in previous years, but with the time they spent together in the Gryffindor common room, and in classes they were at least back on speaking terms.

The third day of classes saw all the fourth years hurrying excitedly towards their Defence Against the Dark Arts class, everyone had heard of Professor Moody by now - including some far fetched sounding rumours started by the Weasley twins - and were eager to see him teach. When the bell rang they all scuttled in, Hermione taking a seat right at the front next to Neville, with Harry and Ron just across the isle from her. The hushed whispers of the class settled into silence as they heard the uneven clunking walk of their new teacher who, upon entering, stood at the front of the room for a moment. He let out a faint grunt at what could either have been his pleasure with the silently waiting class, or an ache in his one good leg - it was difficult to tell - before stepping up to the ratty old desk buried under Merlin only knew what.

"Put your books away, you won't need them," he growled out before picking up a piece of parchment from the desk and checking the roll; as each of them answered to their name his magical eye flickered around the room, even as he continued to read. "Right," he continued gruffly as soon as the last name had been called, "I saw Professor Lupin's class notes from last year and it seems you've all got a fair grasp on dark creatures; werewolves, hinkypinks, red caps. Yes?".

A few general murmurs of agreement came from the class, but he pressed right on.

"But it looks as though you're well behind on your understanding of curses. Now," he continued in a growing voice, "the ministry thinks that all you need to learn is a few countercurses, but I say different! There's no point knowing how to stop something if you don't know what's coming at you. You need to know what's out there, you need to know what you're up against." He turned around and fetched a jar out of drawer as he kept on, "You need to be prepared, and you need to put that away in my class Miss Brown!"

There was a startled sound at the back of the class, and Hermione turned to see Lavender slipping her divination workbook back into her bag.

"So, who can tell me of the most heavily punished curses in the wizarding world?"

Hermione raised her hand, along with a couple of others; she answered simply when he pointed to her. "The three unforgivables."

"And they are so named?" The Professor asked as he turned to scrawl 'unforgivable' on the black board.

"Because they are unforgivable, using one..." she replied and went to continue, but was interrupted by the Professor as he turned back around.

"That's right." He spoke with wide eyes, magical eye flickering about the room. "The use of any one of them against a fellow human being will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban!" Picking the jar up off the desk he waited till all of their eyes had settled on it. "So, we have a spider, and three curses... which one shall we say first?" Pausing just a moment, he continued, "Well? Who can give me the name of an unforgivable curse?" A few hands were tentatively raised around the room, but the Professor focused in on Ron.

The Imperious Curse had most of the class laughing as the Professor had the spider performing for them, and tap-dancing on various people's heads, but the mood soon turned more somber as he pointed out the danger of such total control with the spider teetering over a buck of water ready to drown itself.

As the Professor placed the spider back in his hand and asked for another curse, Hermione was suprised to see Neville's hand shakily raising. The Professor clunked his was over and peered at the boy.

"Longbottom is it?" he asked, as he pointed his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!" he muttered and the spider grew till it was barely fitting in his hand. "Speak up then!" he prompted as the spider was placed on the desk between Neville and Hermione.

"There's the uh, the Cruciatis Curse." Neville responded nervously.

"The torture curse." Professor Moody clarified, then pointed his wand at the now large spider, "Crucio!"

The spider's legs curled in under itself and Hermione was sure she could almost hear it screaming as it began to twitch and rock. The class looked on silently as after a little while the spider started to shudder and jerk more wildly. Looking up, Hermione saw Neville looking pale enough to faint. "Professor!" She called out, quietly, but enough to break his concentration and release the spider from the curse.

Professor Moody followed her eyes to Neville, then looked around the room quickly, everyone was silent. "Well Miss Granger," he spoke after a moment, nudging the spider over to her with his wand. "Perhaps, you'd care to tell us the last curse." He locked eye contact with her and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Avada Kedavra." She answered quietly, several people looked at her nervously, Ron and Harry among them.

"Yes, the killing curse." He clarified watching her still. "Avada Kedavra!" He roared a moment later, wand again pointing straight at the spider.

A shudder ran up Hermione's back as she felt the rushing power of the curse's bright green light slam into the spider before her. Instantly the spider fell flat to the desk, seemingly unharmed, yet unmistakably dead.

* * *

When the class finished Hermione jumped up and moved quickly to the door, her hopes for a quick escape where dashed however when someone stepped into the doorway, blocking her exit.

"What's the matter? Can't the mudblood handle a little real magic?" Malfoy sneered at her, arms crossed over his chest.

Not at all in the mood for him today, Hermione walked up to him with a glare, "mudbloods, muggles... you're obsessed with them Malfoy. I don't think daddy would like to hear that." She taunted. His face turned to a look of anger, but as he reached for his wand she gave him a firm shove into his cronies. "Piss off Malfoy" she muttered as they fell to the floor.

She stormed off to the library before he had a chance to get up, hoping to get some time alone with her thoughts. Finding a dark corner in the back, she flopped into a seat and tried to relax in the familiar surroundings of the books she'd spent so much time reading. The class with Professor Moody had affected her more than she was willing to admit; though it had come out a little when confronted with Draco's usual teasing. Taking a deep calming breath, she shifted her bag off her lap, then sat up and got comfortable before pulling out her Advanced Spellcraft book and once again looked over the four spells she'd most focused on memorising in the summer.

It didn't go unnoticed by her classmates that for the first time ever Hermione Granger skipped class.


	3. Experimentation

A few weeks later Hermione made her way into the Great Hall, where everyone was gathering to hear who the TriWizard Champions would be.

Flickering shadows were being cast across the eagerly waiting masses, as the only light came from the bright blue flame of the Goblet of Fire standing at the front of the hall. Professor Dumbledore made his way to stand before the flaming goblet once everyone was in their seats, and promptly called the hall to order. Hermione had taken a seat just behind Harry and Ron, where she could join in the whispered conversations with them, as well as her dorm-mates.

The atmosphere of the hall changed as Dumbledore finished his short speech and turned to face the Goblet of Fire; its flames pulsing and growing. There were quiet yet amazed sounds around the hall as, moments later, the flames turned a brilliant red and threw a smoking piece of delicately folded parchment high into the hall. Every face watched with rapt attention as the parchment arched through the air, and into the outstretched hand of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," he called while looking at the name, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Enthusiastic applause sounded from the few other Beauxbatons girls in attendance, as a blonde girl stepped forth with pride and was shown into a side room.

Over the next few minutes, the Goblet's flame turned red twice more, with cheers and applause sounding around the hall, as Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory were announced as the Durmstrang, and Hogwarts Champions respectively.

Once the Champions had made their way from the hall, Dumbledore started to close the proceedings but was was pulled up mid-sentence by a gasp from the faculty table. Hermione looked up to see the flames turned red once more, as the entire hall once again descended into silence. A moment later the Goblet's flame pulsed as it had before sending a fourth scrap of parchment bursting forth into the air, to be caught in the hands of the astonished Headmaster.

"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore murmured as he read from the tiny note in his hand.

The were no grand cheers for the apparent fourth Champion, the hall remained mostly silent, with only whispers and disapproval to be heard. Hermione's jaw dropped as she looked at the boy in front of her, trying to get her head around what she was hearing.

"HARRY POTTER!" Dumbledore yelled in what could have been outrage a few seconds later.

Hermione roughly shoved Harry out of his seat as she muttered, "go on then, bloody cheat." Her mind reeling, she didn't pay much notice as he walked over to the Headmaster. A few students had called out the same things she was thinking, while the Durmstrang Headmaster looked utterly furious.

Standing up and quietly making her way out of the hall, Hermione didn't stay to see what happened next. Instead she kept clear of everyone by going directly to her dorm and pulling the curtains closed around her bed. She spent the night just thinking quietly to herself, and soon drifted off to sleep, in spite of her outrage at the antics of the boy she thought she knew.

* * *

She hardly spoke to the boys after that, and part of her was glad when - aside from an unsuccessful foray into the library - they didn't show any great inclination to speak with her either. Some nights though, as she lay in bed enjoying the quiet of the night, she couldn't help the little voice in the back of her head that was upset that they weren't trying harder. After all, hadn't they been friends for over three years now?

But as time passed and they continued to ignore her, she found herself becoming less and less interested in making up with them. Apparently they weren't such good friends as she had once thought they were. But what did she really expect? Harry had always been somewhat apathetic about anything that didn't bring him more fame. That's why he'd gone after the TriWizard Cup after all; and he was getting it. Hermione had seen the constant articles in the Daily Prophet, not that she'd been interested enough to read any of them.

When she wanted company, Hermione spent time with her dorm-mates; though she found herself easily tiring of Lavender and Parvati's inane babbling about divination. So for the most part she stayed in the library. Reading and studying had always filled a great deal of her time anyway, and now she was free to do as much as she pleased; other than trips to the owlery and classes of course.

* * *

Hermione took the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade when the next weekend trip came up. She chatted with Neville, Lavender, and others on the way there, even joining them for a butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks. But once she'd finished she excused herself to wander about a bit on her own; first doing the expected visit to Honeydukes, before ducking down a side alley.

She stepped into the small shop which only showed to those with an appointment and quickly drew her wand. A grubby little man that barely reached her shoulders in height stood before her in an old overly-patched robe, wand raised as he watched her carefully. When a minute or two had passed he nodded, seeming satisfied with something, and slowly lowered his wand.

"Unusual order you placed Miss Granger, not the kind of thing we'd normally bother with," he growled at her under his breath.

"Sometimes its the simple things that are hardest to hide Mr Burke." She answered him in a quiet but firm voice.

He hummed out some kind of growled agreement, and reached under the counter to pull out a dusty old sack; all without taking his eyes off her. "Five Unseen Urns," he told her, "just as you asked. Clean crystal that'll let any spell through. Can store what you like in 'em, no one'll know they're even there if you don't want 'em to."

"Perfect," she responded with a faint smile.

She left the little shop soon after, her purchases tucked safely inside the Honeydukes paper bag. After a quick look through Tomes and Scrolls Hermione caught up with the others again, and the small group made their way back to Hogwarts.

* * *

The first task of the Tournament soon arrived, but Hermione had little interest in it. Breakfast was full of loud conversations about the upcoming task, as everyone talked of guesses and wild rumours on what it would be. She did her best to seem interested, and it wasn't hard with everyone talking at once to simply smile at times and twist her head about as discussions flew about in all directions.

Hermione seemed to get lost in the crowd as everyone made their way out, though she didn't follow them. Instead she decided to take advantage of the unusually quiet castle to practice some of what she'd read. With most of the school - students and professors alike - out at the arena, Hermione wandered off to find a quiet area where she could be sure to be left alone.

Sneaking into an unused classroom, she quickly locked the door, and cast a silencing charm on the room. After wiping the dust off the rickety old desk, Hermione set her bag down and began pulling her supplies from it. Arranging the now occupied Unseen Urns and her Advanced Spellcraft book, so that she could clearly see each when standing a little way back from the desk, she set about practicing the spells she'd memorised over the summer.

No one else came anywhere near the room while she was in there, but even if they had, no one would have believed their eyes had they seen Hermione Granger in that room that day.

* * *

As the weeks flew past, Hermione continued to spend most of her time reading in the library. She did take breaks for meals in the Great Hall though, where she sat with her dorm-mates. Her friendship with Harry and Ron had apparently fizzled out to nothing, and though Lavender and Parvati had asked about them a few times, Hermione was content to leave it be.

It was during one of her evenings in the library that she received an unexpected visitor. She was surrounded by several stacks of books as usual when she heard a throat clearing to her side. Looking up she found herself looking into the deep dark eyes of none other than Durmstrang's own Viktor Krum.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her with a faint nod in his thickly accented English. "I hope I am not interrupting."

"Not at all," she answered him with a slight shake of her head. A small smile ghosting her lips as she sat up straighter. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He seemed to pause a moment, and Hermione realised he was nervous; though it hardly showed beyond the slight shifting of his weight from one foot to the other.

"Well," he continued, "I was wondering if you would allow me the honour of escorting you to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione blinked, her mind blanking at the completely unexpected question.

When a minute - or two? - had passed, he cleared his throat again, before taking a step back. "I am sorry," he murmured, "of course you have already been asked."

She reached out to touch his arm as he turned to leave, "No! No, I'm sorry," burst out of her, before she took a breath and went on to explain, "you just caught me off guard. That's all. I'd be delighted Mr Krum," she answered somewhat formally, as a faint blush filled her cheeks.

A small but pleased smile pulled at one side of his face as he took her still outstretched hand. "Then thankyou, I shall meet you at the foot of the stairs before the Great Hall, two weeks from today. And call me Viktor, please." He bowed slightly as he spoke.

"Then call me Hermione," she fluttered, "and I shall see you there."

With a final nod, and a click of his heels, he turned and left her to her reading.

Not that she managed to do any for quite some time.


	4. Snap

It was a good thing that the Yule Ball had been scheduled for a Saturday, Hermione thought to herself as she watched the pandemonium in the Gryffindor girls bathroom. Had it been on a day they had class she didn't imagine too many would have attended. Girls ran about in all directions as they prepared for the evening, some with charmed brushes chasing after them as hair was straightened, curled, crimped and plaited.

Hermione was no better than the rest of them, really, though she had at least some idea of what she was doing; unlike others such as Fay, who was currently on her fourth hairstyle. She stood and left the room before too long, deciding that it would be better to finish getting ready in her dorm after seeing a girl turn green as two beauty charms had crossed paths.

"Whatever you do, stay out of the bathroom," she advised Parvati upon entering her room.

The girl was sitting peacefully, slowly brushing her hair out, but a smile crossed her face at Hermione's warning. "Thanks, I saw it earlier and decided the same thing."

"Everyone's trying to make themselves and each other up at the same time, it's a mess. I thought it was time to leave when I saw Katie turn green." Hermione explained.

Parvati's eyes bulged a bit but she didn't pause in getting ready.

The chaos gradually settled, but the buzz of the castle continued to grow all the way through the afternoon. Before long Hermione found herself gliding down the stairs toward the Great Hall, a cloud of butterflies fluttering inside her.

At the foot of the stairs, waiting by the doors to the Great Hall just as he'd promised, was Viktor Krum. She watched for a moment as he stood regally, his long red and black formal robes crisply highlighting his warrior's physique. He turned and bowed again as he saw her descending the last few steps, then offered her his arm, before guiding her towards the opening doors leading to the ball.

* * *

Whispers surrounded them as they walked into the Great Hall, and Hermione could see many a jealous look from the girls she walked past. A proud - and somewhat smug - smile grew across her face as she walked, and when she took a quick look at Viktor she saw his usual air of confidence was enhanced with a small grin and a sparkle in his eyes. The whispers followed them right on to the dance floor, where he took her gently by the waist and skillfully lead her as the music began.

Hermione couldn't remember a time in her life where she'd smiled so much or for so long; the night was like a dream. They danced, they chatted, and occasionally drifted to the side of the room for a drink or to nibble on the platters of food from the tables lining the walls.

The night continued in the same vein, they danced, talked, and smiled well in to the night. Viktor showed himself to be nothing but a gentleman; and when the night started to draw to a close, he thanked her simply and with genuine feeling, before brushing a light kiss across her knuckles.

Hermione spun on the spot as he left, and with a faint glow about her made her way over to a nearby seat and promptly sat with a content smile on her face.

Right next to Ron and Harry.

Harry gave her a faint smile, while Ron just sneered at her.

"What's gotten into you?" She asked, brow furrowed at the red head.

"Into me?" Ron spat, and pointed in the direction of the doors, "he's a Durmstrang, you're fraternising with the enemy you are!"

"The enemy? Who was it wanted his autograph?" She was completely ignored, "besides the whole point of the tournament is international magical cooperation... to make friends."

"Think he's got a bit more than friendship on his mind." Was the redhead's sarcastic response.

"How dare you! Besides I can look after myself."

"Doubt it, he's using you, and way too old."

"What?! How do you figure that you half wit?" She brushed an angry tear away, and glared, "Ron! you spoil everything."

She ran from the entrance hall, tears falling freely, wanting nothing more than to get away from her former friends. As she turned the corner though, someone grabbed her arm and and spun her into the wall. A moment later she was looking into the wild eyes of the Durmstrang Headmaster.

"Keep your filthy muggle paws off my champion," he growled menacingly. Then stormed off without glancing back at her.

The tears continued to fall, as she leant against the wall for a few minutes trying to calm herself. But before long, she pulled herself up and began to make her way down the corridor once more.

The night had started so well too, she thought, unsure whether to go back to the dorms, or find somewhere away from everyone. Deciding to keep walking for a bit, hoping the cool corridors of the castle would help calm her, she turned the corner where an unwanted voice broke her train of thought.

"Crying Granger? Krum finally come to his senses and realise he should keep away from filthy little mudbloods?"

Hermione stopped in the middle of the hallway, a shudder running through her as she slowly looked up at the pristine green and silver robes of her constant tormentor. She felt a flush of burning rage race through her as every moment of being teased, bullied, and insulted flicked through her mind, bubbling up in pure anger as she turned on the sneering Slytherin; having well and truly hit her limit. She acted so fast the boy barely had time to trip over as she shoved him hard into a nearby classroom. By the time he realised what had happened, he was lying on the floor, wand out of reach, in a well locked and silenced room with a seething witch pointing her wand at him.

Shaking in anger, Hermione leaned over him and hissed menacingly. "You don't mention my filthy muggle parents, ever again. You disgusting little toad."

She watched as a smug grin started to form on Draco's face, but didn't give him a chance to say a thing. Directing all her rage at him, she saw his eyes widen in shock moments before it hit him.

"Crucio!"

His screams seemed to fuel her rage as she held him under the curse for several minutes. Watching him thrash about on the ground was intoxicating, with a dark beauty all of its own. When she released him, he just lay there, twitching and whimpering. She watched on, as she felt the anger in her slowly die down.

"You'd better hope no one hears of this," she sneered at him, before turning and marching from the room.

She quickly made her way back to her dorm, and soon flopped on her bed, drawing the curtains around her. That night she hardly slept a wink, part of her was worried that at any moment Aurors would burst into the dorm to arrest her, while a little voice shook in the back of her mind, fearful of just what she'd done. Mostly though, she was still hyped up from the feeling of power the curse had instilled in her.

* * *

In Defense class a few days later, Hermione couldn't help but feel that Professor Moody's magic eye was watching her more intently than usual. She was so distracted she didn't even notice what was going on till the Professor was standing in front of her with his wand drawn.

The next thing she knew, she was floating as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching.

And then she heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her empty mind: Jump onto the desk... jump onto the desk...

When she finally had her senses back, she was standing on her desk, having just belly danced in front of the whole class. She quickly sat down and blushed furiously. She watched a little more closely as the rest of the class was put under the curse; and was grateful that no one else seemed able to fight it off either.

No one except Harry of course, he probably had special tutoring from dumbledore just so he could show off in class. Not wanting to wait around and feed his ego, she quickly packed her things at the end of class, and tried to leave quickly.

"Miss Granger," being growled out from the front of the classroom however, soon pulled her plans to a halt. "A word with you before you leave."

With a gulp, Hermione nodded at her Professor and sat back down with her bag in her lap.

Moody stood near his desk, watching her as the rest of the class left the room, when everyone was gone he flicked his wand and the door slammed shut. He silently watched her a moment longer, before speaking. "I found Mr. Malfoy out after curfew the other night, he's got detentions for it."

Hermione just looked at him, hoping she didn't look anywhere near as guilty as she was feeling. Her stomach dropped when he continued.

"He seemed a bit shaken though, as if he'd been hit by a pretty nasty curse. Wouldn't know anything about that would you?" His magic eye continued to bore into her. "What was that?" he prompted, when she only shook her head.

"N-No sir." She finally answered. Her hand creeping under her bag.

The next moment she was pressed back in her seat with his wand pointed in her face.

"Hands where I can see them." He growled, and watched her shakily put her hands on top of her bag. A minute or so passed as he continued to watch her, before lowering his wand a little. "You're not going to be expelled or thrown in Azkaban Miss Granger, so calm down."

This didn't really help at all, but she took a couple of deep breaths, and the shaking lessened.

"Let me guess, couple of people said some things to you that weren't too nice, maybe shoved you around a bit?"

She nodded, but he continued without pause, "Then Malfoy there says or does something, and without thinking much you just unloaded all your anger on him?"

She nodded again, before answering with a squeak, "Yes sir."

He stared down at her for a moment, before continuing. "Sometimes in the heat of the moment things happen Miss Granger, I can understand that. But mind yourself, there's Ministry officials in the castle this year, think where you'd be now if one of them had caught you."

A shiver ran up her spine, and he nodded as he continued, "Consider yourself lucky then, you've got a month's detention with me, starting tonight after dinner." He waved her off and she got up to leave.

She was just about to open the door, and make her escape, when he called out to her in a slightly lighter tone.

"Miss Granger. 20 points to Gryffindor for successful use of such an advanced spell."

That brought a smile back to her face, she didn't think anyone had been so glad to get a detention before.


	5. Curious

_Reviewers, Watchers, and Fav'ers: you're all awesome and have won a free chocolate frog next time you're on the Hogwarts Express._

It was kind of funny, Hermione thought, the way Malfoy shrank back into his robes and tried to hide whenever she entered a room. She'd taken to flicking her eyes over to him in the Great Hall, just to see him flinch.

The downside to this though, was that her dorm-mates had noticed; and attempted to corner and question her about it at every opportunity. She refused to answer them, concentrating instead on the curious detentions with Professor Moody.

That first night she had entered the Professor's office uncomfortable and unsure of what it would entail. He'd sat her at a desk in the corner of the room, and just watched her for a moment in his usual intense and disconcerting way.

"This'll show you what you're really doing when you cast a dark curse." He had growled out as he dropped a thick old book in front of her. "See how you like it after reading that."

With a faint shrug she had opened the book and proceeded to read, but soon understood how her favourite pastime could be turned against her. She thought that she should be glad she'd eaten before detention, as she certainly wouldn't have been able to after. On the other hand, keeping her dinner down had proven difficult.

The book was bound in old dark leather, it had no title, nor any sign of who had written it. Inside it was full of sketches and diagrams, even the occasional photo, all showing in explicit detail the results of someone being hit with numerous dark curses. It was the text that really turned her stomach though, she really didn't need to read precisely what happened when a person was struck by a blood boiling curse. Somehow the Professor knew if she tried to skip ahead though, and so she found herself thoroughly reading and absorbing every detail; if only to prevent herself from having to start the book from the beginning, and reread the details of being slowly skinned alive.

The second night had been similar, though she'd been handed several new books to go through. With them she had to read the history, etymology, and in some cases the development - from mostly harmless jinxes - of each curse from the previous day. Then on the third night she covered the casting theory of them, emotion, intent, and the numerological significance of the wand movements.

Between the stomach turning details of the physical effects book, and the amount of work she was putting in on the other two nights, it wasn't until the third time through the now regular three day cycle that she realised something odd; it was almost like he was teaching her the curses.

* * *

After a week of Hermione refusing to answer their interrogations, her dorm-mates had unfortunately taken to filling in the details for themselves. It had started out amusing, but when she heard Lavender and Parvati mentioning to Fay that Draco and her must be secretly dating, it quickly lost its entertainment value. The resulting confrontation - and near cursing - was witnessed, or at least heard, by most of Gryffindor. As a result, Hermione now had even more time to herself; her dorm-mates did their best to avoid her, and she'd never been particularly close to the rest of her house anyway.

After that she'd taken to not returning to Gryffindor tower until just before curfew, as the whispers that had started whenever she tried to study in the common room were getting on her nerves. While she'd spent some time exploring the castle, mostly in search of a quiet little place to herself, most of her spare time was still spent in the library. However as the curses in Defense were more than covered in her detentions with Professor Moody, and his practical teaching style made for little homework, she found she had more time to study extra topics. So she was gradually teaching herself various charms, a little history, and even taking a more in-depth look at some of the potions in the book she'd bought over the summer.

The odd Dark Arts detentions continued, and while the effects book still seriously grossed her out, she found it wasn't as bad as when she'd first started reading it. She was still watched like a hawk by Professor Moody, but as she buried herself in the books she hardly noticed.

* * *

"Merlin, that's disgusting!" Hermione shuddered as she watched the spider in one of her Unseen Urns peel open.

On one of her now semi-regular walks about the castle, she'd found a quiet little room halfway up one of the disused towers. With a charm on the door at the bottom to give her some warning if anyone came up, she now had a nice little place to herself. In the couple of weeks she'd been using the room, no one had come up the tower at all; which made it the perfect place to try out some of the things she was reading about in detention.

She winced as she looked back at the now skinless spider, and decided to put it out of its misery. She flicked her wand at it, and watched as it dropped to a sudden peaceful stillness with a couple of quiet yet strongly spoken words: "Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Hermione paused as she was running her eyes over the various potion books in the library one afternoon, a curious little book on love potions had caught her eye. It wasn't the sort of thing that would normally interest her - the boys in the school were far from anything she'd want hanging all over her; though Viktor had been nice. When he payed less attention to his headmaster, anyway. But she pulled the little book out and ran her finger over the embossed name of the author.

"Hector Dagworth-Granger," she muttered quietly to herself. Flicking to the back cover she read a little about the author: Founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, and arguably the first to theorise that it was not possible to brew a potion that could genuinely create love - only infatuation. She tucked the book into her bag to look at later, then wandered over to the genealogy area of the library, curious.

* * *

Crookshanks nudged against her leg as Hermione was getting ready for bed one night, she bent down to pet him and saw something wriggling in his mouth. Fetching one of her Unseen Urns, she held it as he spit the upset spider into it. He seemed quite proud of his conquest, and curled up in Hermione's arms when she picked him up.

He'd taken it upon himself to keep her Urns occupied, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the hunt. Fortunately it didn't matter to her if the spiders, frogs, mice, or - on one occasion - a first year Hufflepuff's toad, were missing a leg or two; Crookshanks liked to play with his prey. Unfortunately, her cat wasn't interested in digesting what he caught after she'd finished practicing on them. She soon learned there were some useful potions ingredients to be found though, and anything that was left became owl treats; Hermione was becoming quite popular with the school owls this year.

Which, considering the only human she spent any real amount of time around was Professor Moody, didn't really help much to counter her growing isolation; though she sometimes told her cat otherwise.

* * *

After several weeks, Hermione's genealogy research into Dagworth-Granger had lead her to a dead end. Hector had had two great grand children, but the family had apparently died out with them; or had all been squibs. Either way she couldn't find any magical records for the family from the past two hundred years.

Flopping back in her chair, she looked up at the ceiling. "Urgh, doesn't anyone keep records of muggles in a dead line?" She asked her empty tower room.

"Miss, the goblins does miss!" Was the unexpected reply; which quickly had Hermione out of her chair, and towering over the floppy eared little creature in the corner of the room, wand drawn. At the sight of the wand, the elf had curled itself down into a ball while trying to hide behind its own arm, and apologised in a flurry of indecipherably panicked words.

Lowering her wand, Hermione tried to calm the little elf down. It took a few minutes, but after reassuring her that she wasn't in trouble, but really shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Hermione finally managed to ask the most important question: "Now what's this about the goblins?"

The elf's large eyes opened wide with joy at being able to help, "The goblin's has records for everything miss! Wizards and muggles and elfs, and who's bound and who's married, and everyone so they knows who's vault is who's, and who can't go where miss!"

"And they share this with anyone?" Hermione asked, as the possibilities sprang up in her mind.

The little elf's ears drooped back down as she answered in a sad voice, "Fipsy doesn't know that miss, only that there's records."

Tucking her wand away, Hermione thanked the elf with a pat on the head, "Fipsy's your name?" At the elf's nod she continued, "well thankyou Fipsy, you've been a big help. Now, I don't want you spying on me, but I don't mind if you come up here, as long as you don't hide."

A few minutes later, when she'd pried the over excited elf from her leg, Hermione scribbled a short letter and headed out to the owlery.

* * *

Later that week, Hermione was making her way to detention as usual when it suddenly occurred to her, she was only meant to have a month's detention, so why was she still going after six weeks? Or more interestingly, why hadn't Professor Moody said anything? She no longer even read the graphically detailed effects book, so clearly it wasn't punishment, or shock treatment, or whatever it was he'd been aiming for. It was now more like a special tutoring session, only it was all of a decidedly dark nature. Just why was an ex-Auror teaching her dark magic anyway?

She decided to keep attending in the hope of working out just what was going on. Besides, she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to read about things that - she was quite sure - she wouldn't be able to find in the library.


	6. Blood

Hermione took in a big breathe of air as she opened her eyes, and immediately started coughing up the water she'd sucked in with it. A strong arm reached around her, helping lift her clear of the surface of the black lake. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd just missed, only that she was now cold, wet, and apparently wand-less while in the middle of the lake.

Not to mention, mightily upset with McGonagall; who's assurances that Hermione would be "just fine" didn't really fit with waking up in the middle of a lake infested with Merlin only knew what.

On the plus side, Viktor had his arm around her; she could get used to that. Though it'd be better if they were, say, cuddled in front of a fireplace. The look she was getting from Durmstrang's Headmaster however, suggested that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Hermione decided to enjoy it for as long as she could, which was only until she was helped onto the deck where everyone had been watching from.

Before long she found herself wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and Krum-less again. Though drying and warming charms from Professor Moody had helped improve her mood a bit, she still didn't have her wand.

As soon as the little boat touch the bank she rushed off to her dorm, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's attempts to get her to the hospital wing for a quick check up. Wearing fresh, warm, and dry robes, she made her way to the infirmary; keeping a hand on her much loved vine and dragon heart-string wand.

Madam Pomfrey was soon checking Hermione over and deemed her to be "in fair shape, but not to over do it."

She was given a pepper-up potion, told to eat well today, and to have an early night. As she was hungry and somewhat lethargic, she decided that sounded like an excellent idea.

* * *

The next morning Hermione made her way down to breakfast considerably later than usual. Despite being in a charmed sleep for much of the previous day, her time at the bottom of the lake had tired her out. She was just making a start on some poached eggs and toast when an owl swooped in to the Great Hall and landed in front of her. The bird didn't wait around, flying off as soon as she'd untied the letter it was carrying. Turning the letter over, Hermione watched the wax seal with a large 'G' on it change colour from a deep red to gold just before she broke the letter open, and pulled out the parchment within:

_Miss Granger,_  
_In response to your owl regarding a potential link to the Dagworth bloodline, a lineage test has been arranged at the Hogsmeade branch of Gringotts, this Saturday at 1PM._

_Parsnig_  
_Archived Accounts Manager_  
_Gringotts Bank_

Hermione cursed under her breath, the next Hogsmeade weekend wasn't for 2 more weeks. Forgetting her breakfast, she turned to the head table and huffed in disappointment; only Professors Flitwick and Snape were still there. Spinning on her heel, she walked out of the Great Hall in search of her head of house.

The Professor was in her office, thankfully, and invited Hermione in without delay. When told of the appointment the Professor asked to see the letter, which she couldn't read due to a privacy charm; but that and the seal on the envelope were apparently enough to prove its validity. Professor McGonagall agreed without too much bother to ensure an escort was available for Hermione's trip to Hogsmeade. The speedy offer may have been helped along by Hermione mentioning that if she could spend a night at the bottom of the lake, a trip to Hogsmeade surely wasn't too much to ask.

* * *

As the detentions - or whatever it was - with Professor Moody continued, Hermione kept a watchful eye on him. She couldn't really find anything odd though, other than the fact that a month's detention was now in its 8th week. He hadn't said anything to her about it, just continued to supply new books and answer occasional questions she had as she read through them. Mostly he just sat at his desk, doing his own work and sipping at his flask every now and then.

Her studies with him had gradually slipped past just dark, they were now well and truly black. As if the curses she'd started reading about weren't cruel enough, she was now studying what were technically charms, but really were just ways to curse objects. It was quite horrific - and rather exciting - some of the things that a seemingly harmless thing like a book or piece of jewellery could be made to do to someone.

Hermione thought of the diary from second year, and dug into her studies. Professor Moody took another sip from his flask.

* * *

"Miss Granger," a not entirely welcome voice startled Hermione as she waited in the entrance hall for Professor McGonagall to take her to Hogsmeade. "Professor McGonagall asked me to escort you on your little rule-bending trip." Professor Snape informed her with his usual sneer in place. "Couldn't wait another week like everyone else in the school?" He asked, but walked away with quick long strides, not giving her a chance to answer.

Presuming she was meant to follow, Hermione hurriedly did her best to catch up. The professor was just unlocking the gates when she reached his side, breathing heavily. "I have an appointment with Gringotts, Professor." She huffed out. "The goblins don't really care for anyone else's convenience."

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow in a response that she wasn't quite sure of, then proceeded on his way to the village; his robes billowing as they always seemed to. As they entered the small town, he stopped suddenly and turned to look down at her, before speaking in a tone that was to be followed or else. "I have better things to do than wait around for students, Miss Granger. As such, I expect you to be waiting right here for me when you have finished with your little meeting."

Hermione did her best not to shrink under his gaze, and managed to squeak out a quick "yes sir." She then watched her teacher walk away to a building down the street, before making her own way into the small Gringotts branch.

As she was lead down a short hallway, she idly wondered if Snape was related to a goblin at all, the little creature's no-nonsense sneer seemed familiar. She waited a moment outside an unremarkable door before being lead into a small, but well furnished office. The goblin behind the polished wooden desk settled his glasses in place, and introduced himself as Parsnig, before encouraging her to sit and promptly getting on with the purpose of their meeting.

"A lineage test is fairly simple Miss Granger," he explained as he set a blank sheet of parchment and a small silver cup in front of her. Getting up to stand beside her, he continued, "I'll slice your thumb to draw blood for the chalice, then that will be used to check against our records."

Hermione nodded, and held up her hand as Parsnig drew a silver blade from his belt. The goblin took her hand, and looked it over with a sharp eye. She sucked in a hiss as he cut into the pad of her thumb, then waited a few moments as a small amount of her blood dripped into the silver chalice.

Holding her thumb in a handkerchief, she watched on as the goblin poured a small amount of a clear blue liquid into the cup, causing soft swirls of green fumes to rise for a second or two. He then poured the resulting blood mix on to the middle of the parchment and took his seat again. The parchment absorbed the blood, leaving only a small pool of the thin blue liquid.

A minute or two passed, and she was about to ask if something was meant to have happened when she saw a change in the colouring of the parchment. The blue liquid seemed to thin even more, and spread out to cover most of the sheet, as lines slowly came into view.

Parsnig shifted in his chair, and sat up straighter as the lines gradually came into focus. Hermione watched in fascination as the lines solidified, and writting began to appear. Another full minute passed before she could make out the words, and then the blue liquid glowed faintly and vanished.

The words were names, in two distinct lines: from her own name at the bottom of the parchment the lines split off following through her parents, grandparents, and great grandparents, before things started to get a little more interesting. The lines slowly came back together again over several generations, it seemed that her parents were fourth cousins; she wondered if they knew.

But the most notable thing was her great great great great grandfather 'Hector Dagworth-Granger' appeared just where the lines came back together. She'd started this just wondering if he might have been a distant relation, but it had turned out that she was a direct descendant of him; from both sides of her family. Her maternal grandmother even had Dagworth as her maiden name; the name had been split so that each of her g'g'great grandfathers - twins - could carry on a part of the line.

Also interesting were the short notes beside some of the names showing dates of birth and death, as well as 'muggle' or 'squib' in a few places. So it was quite clear that the twins had married muggle women; and so Hermione could see what had happened to her once great magical blood line. Their children had been squibs - "of course", she muttered to herself - and a long line of muggles followed leading to her parents. Then the line had rejoined in her, the first witch in five generations.

With it written so clearly in front of her, she came to a conclusion that perhaps she wouldn't have just a few months prior: muggle blood had stripped her family's magic, it took the line rejoining to overpower the mud and return the magic to her.

Hermione spent a few minutes looking over what was close to eight hundred years of ancestry, spotting a few familiar names in there: Prewett, Flint, Black, even Longbottom - which she was a little put out by. Eventually she looked up at the sound of Parsnig clearing his throat.

The goblin sat across the desk from her with a new stack of parchment. "As you can see, you are the sole heir to the House of Dagworth Miss Granger." He spoke up. "If you wish to claim your family line, we have some further matters to attend to."

She thought about that for a few moments before asking, "What exactly does that involve?"

-

Later that night, Hermione sat on her bed with her curtains drawn and a silencing charm in place, so she could have some peace to go through the few things she'd left the bank with. While the Dagworths were far from being as rich as families such as the Blacks or Malfoys, they also weren't anywhere near as poor as the Weasleys. As such she now had a new vault, as well as her personal vault, with Gringotts.

There was no property, it having all been sold when the last magical Dagworth had died, and the Gringotts account moved to archived status. But she had a list of various artefacts and other items that she would have full access to in a few years. Unsurprisingly, quite a bit of what was stored were suited to a Potions Master; having come from her g'g'g'great grandfather.

Being underage she was officially classed as 'heir,' but as the only living magical descendant of the House of Dagworth she had a little more leeway than most; which had given her access to a few things she wouldn't normally have until she was of age. She also now had a pouch linked to her personal vault, the contents of which included the ten thousand Galleon yearly stipend that was apparently traditional for all Dagworth heirs.

Having already examined the contents of the rolled up dragon hide tool pouch, she left it alone to take a closer look at her new locket. It was a curved vaguely triangular shape, about the size of a Galleon, made of silver with the green and black Dagworth crest etched and enamelled into its front face. She placed it around her neck so as to show the world her new position, the fine chain closing itself magically.

The last item was a thick leather bound book, again bearing the family crest and she smiled faintly at the motto, far more legible in the larger crest: Efficiunt clarum studia. That fit her so well, the blood test seemed almost unnecessary.

Settling back against the head board, she spent the rest of the night studying her family's long forgotten magics.

* * *

_I'm sure you all hate me for taking so long, but this is the longest chapter yet, so hopefully that makes up for it._  
_I'm not entirely happy with the chapter, but thought it best to post it than let you all wait another month._  
Efficium clarum studia_ is Latin for 'studies make a thing clear' and is actually the personal motto of one of my ancestors... I just though it suited Hermione so used it._


	7. Precipice

_Because you were all so nice, and waited so long for the last chapter, here's another._

* * *

"So it turns out I'm a pureblood, or something, sort of." Hermione mentioned to her Professor as she walked into the DADA classroom for another 'detention.' She watched him closely, yet casually as she spoke; his eyes narrowed as he looked at her, but it seemed more in curiosity than anger. "I had a lineage test done at Gringotts," she continued, "turns out I'm the heir to the Dagworth line." She pulled out her locket and showed it to him.

As he leaned forward over his desk to look at the locket, she caught a scent on his breath which confirmed her suspicions.

"Good as it is to see an ancient house reborn, I don't see how that makes you a pureblood Miss Granger." He growled out, but she could hear the intrigue in his voice.

"Well, like I said - sort of. Turns out my parents are fourth cousins, I don't think they even know." She said with a shrug. "But the thing is, it means I can trace both sides of my family back though almost eight hundred years of wizarding blood. There's a bit of mu-muggle blood in there." The faint tug of a smile almost formed on his lips, as she said this. "But now that the line's rejoined in me, it's diluted enough to give me my magic back."

"It's arguable Miss Granger, and I assure you that many would argue it." He responded after a quiet minute. "But most would likely judge by your intent."

Taking her usual seat, she laid out some parchment before answering, "My intent is to not let it happen again, the Dagworth line will be pure again."

He just nodded in reply, the ghost of a smile showing. Then they both turned to their work; she the books, and he the pile of assignments awaiting marking. The room settled into a peaceful silence, disturbed only by the rustle of parchment, and occasional scratch of a quill as they both busied themselves in their work.

Hermione sat twiddling her wand in her lap, as she read about some rather nasty rituals. "Professor?" She asked, without seeming to take her eyes off the book in front of her. "Who are you?"

There was a jolted scrape of a chair as she saw his head snap up at her out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't follow you Miss Granger." He replied after a moments silence; his voice making an attempt at confusion.

"Don't you?" She asked in an innocent sounding tone, as she set her quill down and raised her eyes to his. "The renowned ex-auror who's spent the last two months teaching a student the dark arts. Your apparent pleasure when I speak poorly of muggles." The word came out like a curse, and his eyes brightened as she expected. "What about you hushing up the use of an unforgivable on a student? Or, looking at the more obvious, the flask of Polyjuice Potion you keep sipping at." A smug grin spread across her face as she watched him swallow.

The room's silence continued for a few seconds, but it was far less comfortable than it had been. Then, as quick as a one-legged man could be, he was out of his chair. Hermione, expecting this, responded before he was even completely on his feet.

"Expelliarmus!" She caught his wand as she got to her feet, then approached his desk slowly, but confidently; keeping him at wand point the whole time. "And I don't think the real Alastor Moody would have just lost to a fourth year," she added with an unmistakable air of confidence about her.

With a quick swish and flick of her wand, the flask drifted toward her. "So, are you going to tell me who you are? Or do we just wait for this to wear off?" She wiggled the flask.

They watched each other for a moment, a tense silence again filling the room, and then - without warning - he burst into laughter.

Hermione watched him, her lips twitching as she fought back the infectious urge to laugh along with him. But he stilled again after a minute or two.

"Professor Lupin was full of praise for your intelligence in his notes from last year." He told her once he'd gained control of himself. Then added in a mutter, "Perhaps I should have expected this." Holding out his hand as if to offer an introductory handshake, he looked her in the eye. "Bartemius Crouch Junior, Miss Granger, but call me Barty, everyone else does."

Hermione didn't take his hand, she just watched him, thinking, trying to work out where she'd heard the name from; other than the obvious point of his father being in the ministry. She gasped when she got it, her eyes locking hard to his. "Neville. That's why you showed the Cruciatus Curse right in front of him, you were there, one of the Death Eaters that..." she trailed off eyes widening.

"You're a Death Eater." It wasn't a question, but she saw his answering nod. Her brow furrowed with concentration though as she started putting things together, muttering mostly to herself. "But then why defense? Not defense... hiding in plain sight, but... the tournament? But what... Harry." She looked up to see the amusement on his face, "he didn't put his name in the goblet. You did."

The Professor?... Barty licked his lips and flashed a menacing smile at her. Hermione instinctively took a step back. "But why?" She asked, just barely keeping the nervousness out of her voice. "You're not trying to kill him, you've been helping... everyone knows you told Dobby about the gillyweed. That elf can't keep anything quiet about 'The Great Harry Potter.'" That last came out with an almost Snape-like sneer.

She paused again, studying the Professor look-alike sitting across the desk from her. "You need him for the third task. I don't know why, but you need him to be in the third task. It's... Death Eater." Her eyes widened as she turned to her Professor again, "he's coming back isn't he?"

"Who's coming back?" He asked, seeming amused now. He was sitting back in his chair, watching her with a faint smirk tugging at one side of his mouth.

"V-Vol," she stuttered over the name, and her anger picked up again as she watched him holding in a laugh. "You _know_who!"

"You really are remarkably intelligent, you know." He told her, not really answering her question; but the wild look in his one real eye suggested he had.

Hermione flopped down in the nearest chair, a cold weight settling in her chest. Minutes passed, as they both sat in silence. Hermione's thoughts flickering from one thing to another, trying to make sense of what she'd just learned.

After a while, she stood up to leave. Without really focusing on anything she looked at her Professor - Barty, she thought to herself - and gave him his wand back, before walking out and heading back to her dorm.

* * *

Her mind was wandering about all over the place that night. She was sitting on her bed idly flicking through her volume of Dagworth magics, without seeing a word of it. She was wondering if maybe she at least owed Harry an apology over his entry in the tournament. But then neither he nor Ron had tried to so much as speak with her, let alone explain. Did they even care? They'd been through a lot, but were they ever really friends?

She thought over the past few years, since she'd come to Hogwarts, and decided she didn't really like what she saw. She'd got them out of trouble a lot, they'd got her into trouble a lot... and there was the constant teasing - bullying? - from Ron. Harry had seemed perfectly happy to follow along with him, never standing up for her. Was that the actions of a friend?

They did save her from that troll in first year. But then she was only in danger as a result of trying to get away from them. The basilisk in second year had petrified her, and Harry had defeated it. But then he'd been hearing it for months, and never went to a professor - a competent professor anyway - about it. Harry had been happy to bask in the glory of it all, but had he - or Ron - ever done anything just because she was a friend. They'd certainly been happy to mooch off her class notes.

She'd been the one to discover it was a basilisk in the Chamber; even petrified they'd relied on her for that, pulling the parchment from her hands. Then last year she'd helped Harry with the time-turner, saved his godfather's life even. Plus she'd gone to get a professor first year, after he'd killed Quirrell.

Hermione stopped and thought about that. Harry had been praised and rewarded every year, but for what? Killing a professor in first year. In second year Lockhart had been a pompous idiot, but still, Harry and Ron had smashed him over the head with a rock, and left him practically brainless. Then last year he'd attacked Professor Snape, spied on the Minister for Magic, and helped a criminal escape.

Sure, she'd done that last herself, and Sirius was technically innocent; even if it wasn't proven in a trial. But still, was that really someone she wanted as a friend?

So maybe he wasn't worth an apology, she decided. At least this year she'd been able to study more than ever... and it's not like Harry or Ron would understand her new interests anyway. Besides, an apology wouldn't make much difference in a few weeks time. But then, should she warn him? She knew, or at least had some idea, what was coming. Not apologising was a long way from more or less sending someone to their death; and that's what it was, she knew it.

A few months before she knew she'd have run straight to Harry, or someone, with what she knew. Why wasn't she now? Something had changed this year, she could feel it. She suspected it may be herself, but she hadn't changed that much had she? Really?

Maybe she had, she'd been studying dark magic for months now, and the unforgivables since well before school had even started. Plus she was now the heir of an ancient bloodline.

Putting her book away, she laid back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Did she even know what side she was on anymore? She'd been pushing away everything muggle since the summer, ever since her parents had tried to take magic away from her. They didn't understand, they couldn't. They didn't have the right to even try.

"Filthy muggles," she muttered to herself, then stopped. That was the crux of it, wasn't it? She, formerly proud mudblood, didn't want her newfound bloodline tainted ever again. Her thinking had shifted, turned around so completely, that it shocked her now that she thought about it.

She pulled out her family tree, and looked at the plainly written proof of muggle blood destroying a magical line. There wasn't any denying it, no one could with the evidence right there.

But what about Harry? Was he fighting against purebloods? His parents' killer? Or just glory hunting as she'd accused him of? Was he fighting against what she now believed to be the truth? And what of the others? Dumbledore, Sirius, the Weasleys, McGonagall, Professor Lupin, even Hagrid had told her the pureblood superiority was nonsense. But now, she knew they were wrong.

But surely they were fighting against a killer, not a philosophy? Right? So she should warn someone. Or should she?

Which side was she on? Which side were they on? Was she even on a side? Did she have to choose?

She batted it back and forth in her mind well into the night, without reaching a conclusion one way or another. Sometime after midnight, still unsure about anything, she fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

_Hermione Voldemort Riddle: you'll have your answers soon. But things aren't necessarily as deeply planned as you may think._


	8. Unforgivable

A small voice in the back of head told her that waiting, doing nothing, was just as much picking a side as if she'd done something, anything. But for the first time in her life Hermione didn't know her own mind. So she chose to do nothing, to let events unfold as if she didn't know what was coming.

But she did, and she didn't know what she thought of that, what she should think of it; doing nothing had never been so tiring.

Fortunately the other Gryffindors were just as oblivious as always; no one noticed how distracted she had been. Her class work continued as it always had, her homework was completed early as usual. But she wasn't paying as much attention to those around her as she usually did.

She'd stopped going to detentions, or dark magic studies, or whatever it was; not feeling up to facing her Defense Professor just yet. Eventually she had to though. The next defense class was just three days after she'd confronted him with her suspicions, and learned the truth of what was to come.

He'd watched her as she entered the class and taken her usual seat. She'd kept her head down, not looking at him, wanting more time. But he'd called her out on not paying attention in class; and given her a detention. At the time, she'd accepted it without comment.

Now though, she found herself back in the position she'd been in months ago, uncomfortable and unsure as she made her way to the Defense classroom for detention. She took a few moments outside the door to calm herself, and attempt to put an emotionless look on; which lasted till she knocked on the door. Startled, she stood in the door way gaping as the door swung open on her second knock.

"Do come in, Miss Granger." Spoke the familiar voice of her sort-of Professor when she'd been standing there a little too long. "Seal the door," he told her as she stepped into the room. "Thoroughly," he added when she only put a simple locking charm on it.

She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the door and piled just about everything she knew on. Which was quite a bit: If anyone did manage to get into the room it was doubtful that they'd bring all of their major organs with them. When she turned to walk to her usual seat in front of him, her face was composed again; but with a faint smirk, which he shared.

"Nicely done."

Hermione's smile grew a bit, "thank you." She sat where she usually did, but there were no books this time.

"So I noticed Dumbledore hasn't come stampeding in on me with a herd of Aurors." He mentioned casually as they sat watching each other.

A huff that might have been a laugh in any other circumstances escaped Hermione, but she just sank a little in her seat, and shook her head. The scorch marks on the floor were interesting, she thought to herself.

The minutes passed in silence, but it was Hermione that broke it.

"I don't know why." She finally said without looking up. "I... Last year I would have told," she whispered, and heard him shift in his chair. "He was my friend, or I thought he was. Maybe that was a lie too." She paused for a moment as her eyes flickered about, unseeing, in thought. "But I don't know what side I'm on now, or what side is what. Or even who to believe really. So I'm just not going to get involved. Just let whatever happens happen, as if I'd never known." She took a deep breathe, "And I know that could mean someone dies, but it doesn't bother me like I think it should. He's only a stinking half-bl... urgh." She choked on her words as she looked up.

Sitting in front of her was a younger man than there was a moment ago, with a mop of dirty blonde hair and a faint look of manic amusement on his lightly freckled face.

"Hello," he greeted her.

Hermione settled herself with a deep breathe that verged on a huff.

His smile grew, "The Polyjuice wears off when I'm asleep, of course. I just thought I'd let it happen a little earlier, let you know who you're talking to."

"Some warning would have been nice," she scolded him.

He just laughed.

With the tension broken, the night settled into something surprisingly normal; for a girl being taught the dark arts by a Death Eater disguised as a retired Auror. Hermione ended up reading as usual, while Barty - as he insisted she call him while they were alone - had marked homework, or whatever it was he did.

They'd talked some, a little stiffly at first but it had freed up a bit as the night drew on. He'd left her to her semi-neutral stance of just not getting involved. But smirked at her the whole time. She had left him to think what he might about her decision - or lack of.

* * *

Later, as she was just settling down in bed, she heard a faint pop: Then moments later a house elf poked it's head through the curtains.

"Miss, Professor Moody is asking you to come open his door."

Hermione snorted and choked back a laugh, before getting back out of bed.

* * *

She had taken to avoiding Harry even more than usual lately, so when she walked into the Great Hall early the next morning for breakfast, she wasn't expecting to see him sitting at the table. He didn't notice her at first, so she just stood there, watching him.

Their eyes met when he turned around and looked at her, and she almost told him - warned him - about the third task, and what would happen. But the urge left her she watched as his brow furrow in a slight frown, and she just sneered at him and went to a seat at the far end of the table.

Hermione picked at her breakfast for a while, not really paying attention to much. She knew that her 'staying out of it' stance was as good as betraying him; at least in this case. But was it really a betrayal? She poured milk into a bowl of porridge, and poked at it; not feeling particularly hungry.

The arrival of the day's mail brought out of her thoughts when an unfamiliar barn owl landed in front of her. The muggle envelope tied to its leg clearly identified the sender without having to open it; her parents. She hadn't spoken to them since they'd dropped her off at Kings Cross in September, and didn't particularly want to now. Her expression hardened as she thought of them, the reminder of the taint on her family name, their attempts to take her magic from her over the summer.

Looking like she was scraping hippogriff dung off the bird's leg, she untied the letter; wondering where they got the owl from. It didn't wait around, flying off as soon as it was free of the envelope. She looked at the now strangely thin paper as she held it away from her between thumb and forefinger, she briefly considered opening it before pulling out her wand. A couple of people nearby jumped as the letter burst into flames. Shaking her head at them, she got up and headed out of the Hall.

"Oh look, it's the mudblood gryffinwhore!" was followed by laughter as she was just about to step out the door.

"Someone would actually pay a mudblood?"

"She probably pays them!"

Pansy and her little pack laughed amongst themselves as Hermione turned toward them. Her face was a perfect mask of calm - hiding the rising anger inside her - as she strode toward the group of girls at the Slytherin table.

"Go away Granger, we don't need the article signed." Pansy told her - to more giggles - as Hermione approached.

She flicked her eyes down to the Daily Prophet in front of them before casting a glare at the blonde boy nearby. "Malfoy," she snapped, and he jumped in his seat. "Deal with them, or I deal with you." She told him as she grabbed the newspaper off the table.

"Draco, don't tell me you've had a go at her too?!" Pansy responded, a hint of disgust tinting her voice.

Hermione's wand was in her hand before she consciously thought of it, but a far too familiar and unwanted voice behind her stopped the curse before it left her lips.

"Miss Granger," came the steely tones of the Potions Master. "Attacking a fellow student? That's 20 points from Gryffindor. As you were on your way out I suggest you leave, now, before I have to endure a detention with you as well." He continued.

Lowering her wand, Hermione flicked a pointed look at Malfoy before turning back to the door and exiting the Great Hall. In the entrance hall, she found a quiet spot to look at the article the Slytherin girls had been reading. She felt her anger boil as she read through the gossip column's insinuations about her, and seemingly half the boys in Hogwarts and Durmstrang.

Seconds later she dropped the now burning newspaper and stormed up the stairs. Seething, she made her way to her quiet tower, seeking something to unload on. With a quick wave of her wand the door slammed shut, and she turned to the little creatures fluttering about in the clear crystal of her Urns.

With swift wand motions and a voice overflowing with anger she watched as first one, then another of the spiders shuddered and shook beneath her Cruciatus. One by one they stopped moving; either dead or beyond feeling. Hermione was just starting to feel her control seeping back as she turned to the last occupied Unseen Urn, Crookshanks' beetle from this morning was inside wildly bashing itself against the tight fitting lid of its prison.

"Crucio!" She growled out again through clenched teeth, but the effect was far from the usual. Moments after the curse hit, the beetle's size swelled, two then four times its original size, and kept growing. Seconds later, having stopped the curse, Hermione was looking with shock at the shaking form of an older witch with curly blonde hair twitching on the floor at her feet.

Hermione stood there shaking with a mix of shock, rage, and fear as the minutes passed; barely noticing her unintended victim muttering to herself as she crawled across the floor.

The older witch was pulling herself to her feet and heading toward the door when Hermione snapped out of her stupor. She could hear Skeeter's tone turning excited as she spoke - seemingly to herself - of the article she'd write, the acclaim she'd get, "The Boy Who Lived's girlfriend, practicing dark magic, this'll be the greatest article of my career!" Hermione heard her say.

"No!" Her response startled Skeeter out of the delusional nattering that Hermione wasn't sure was her normal self, or the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

Gripping her wand tighter, Hermione watched as the woman's eyes widened in fear, apparenly having just realised Hermione was still there. "You can't tell anyone, you mustn't! You won't." Her words had a tone of desperation in them that was verging on madness, which caused the older witch to turn and run.

Hermione was shaking, images of a dark cell and approaching dementors crowding her head. Seeing her entire future disappearing along with the running witch, she did the only thing she could: The shaking in her arms stilled eerily as she turned her eyes directly on the fleeing witch and raised her wand. It was with a strange calm that she spoke the spell that would change her more than any before it.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	9. Effects

Hermione gasped, and a shiver ran down her spine as the curse hit, this was nothing like a spider or toad. The rush of power she'd become accustomed to with the killing curse seemed amplified exponentially with a human target; it was as though she could feel the life leaving her victim. She just stood there, eyes glazed over as she basked in the feel, the aura, of the unforgivable curse.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Her name being yelled in her face startled her back to the world, and her gaze focused in on Professor Moody standing in front of her.

"Busy day?" He asked with a knowing look, and shoved a glass into her hand. "Drink. I know that look Miss Granger, there's one less person in the world than there was this mornin'. But don't let it go to your head, can't have you running around killin' everything that moves." He finished by giving her hand a nudge.

Confused, she looked down at the small glass of amber liquid, and took a sniff: It stung her nostrils. Taking a deep breathe, she downed the firewhiskey in one gulp; and immediately coughed as it burned its way down her throat.

The Moody look-alike just chuckled and refilled her glass.

She sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the light filtering through the alcohol. Then she swallowed the second glassful without coughing, but felt a little fuzzy before too long. "I..." she started to speak, then stopped and frowned, looking around his office. "How did I get here?"

"Fine elf you've got yourself there," he told her. "Brought you down here after that little task you set her."

Her brow furrowed as she looked at her once again full glass. "How did you..."

"Marvelous creatures, acromantulas." He interrupted.

She locked eyes with him for a moment and smirked, then nodded in reply. A thought occurred to her a moment later, "how do you know about the acromanitolleh?" Her eye's flicked to her glass again, "this shtuff is evil." She drained the glass again.

Barty chuckled at her antics, "Your elf was worried, and told me the story when she brought you down here."

Hermione looked at him as that sunk in to her fuzzy head, "My..." suddenly her eyes widened, "I bound her to me! And... Fipsy!" She called.

With a pop the little elf appeared in the room, "Mistress called Fipsy?!" She asked with great pleasure in her voice.

Hermione blinked and focused on the elf standing before her, even more devotion showing in its bulging eyes than usual. "You're not to speak a word of what's happened today to anyone, understood?"

Fipsy's ears flopped about as she nodded enthusiastically, "Yes Mistress, when Fipsy brought Mistress here Professor Moody said to be extra quiet about the bad witch Fipsy gave to the spiders."

Hermione nodded, but paused after a moment. "Actually," she added, "you're not to tell anyone anything I do. Not just about today."

The little elf's ears continued to flop about, "Mistress said not to say who Mistress is, and to be careful what Fipsy says, but Fipsy won't say a word about Mistress to anyone."

Hermione didn't remember saying any of that, but then again she barely remembered bonding with the young elf. That curse, or it's aftermath, had been... she didn't think there was a word for it. She'd never felt that powerful after a spell though, the rush had been... She interrupted herself by draining another glass of whiskey.

"Stealing Hogwarts elves too?" Barty asked, a wickedly amused smile showing on his stolen face.

"I don't really remember doing it, actually." Hermione responded with a shake of her head. "She told me she was only just old enough to be bonded; wasn't going to happen till September though." A huff, that was verging on a snort-laugh escaped her. "Bloody elf was dropping hints all over," she said with an amused grin. "Guess she got what she wanted."

"Never underestimate a house elf," Barty raised his glass to her.

She followed him with the drink, then snorted. "Obviously Malfoy never learnt that."

Barty's eyes narrowed at her comment, "what's young Mr Malfoy been up to with the elves then?"

Hermione shook her head at him, "not Draco, his da-father." She spoke the last word in a mimic of the blonde Slytherin boy's snooty tones. "Back in second year, he slipped a diary that belonged to he-wh... Vol... uh," she paused a moment, and looked at Barty. "What do you call him?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Right, the Dark Lord. Mr Malfoy slipped his diary to Ginny Weasley, it possessed her, she released a basilisk on the school... petrification, mayhem, you get the idea." She waved her hand about. "Anyway, apparently Mr. Malfoy's house elf warned Harry about it. Harry tricked Malfoy into freeing the elf, after he killed the basilisk." She stopped, and her gaze turned to a glare seemingly directed at her glass. Dropping it on the table, she started pacing apparently working herself up to something that burst out moments later. "'Course it was me that worked out what was petrifying everyone, no one else had any idea. Not that I got any thanks, oh no!" Her voice was growing in volume as she continued. "Dumbledore gets his job back, Hagrid gets out of Azkaban, Hogwarts is all safe again and what do I get? Exams are cancelled! They stick me with the same bloody marks as those no good half-blood, traitorous, barely-more-than-a-squib 'housemates' that..."

"Drink!" He cut her off mid-rant.

She glared at him for interrupting, but downed the whiskey in one swig; quickly followed by another at his urging look.

"Better?" He asked, watching her intently.

Her eye's narrowed, "You trying to get me drunk?"

"Do you feel drunk Miss Granger?"

"It's Dagworth-Granger!" She almost-screamed, her wand appearing in her hand, "My rightful name! Not that tainted half-name..."

"Drink!" He interrupted her again, hands up showing he was unarmed.

She glared at him further, wand twitching.

"You're burning it off faster than you're drinking." He informed her, and continued when she took a drink. "You don't go throwing around Killing Curses without some backlash Miss Dagworth-Granger."

She lowered her wand just a bit, and swallowed another glassful.

"First time's the hardest, Killing Curse gets right down into you. Tears you up a bit, releases parts of your magic you never even knew you had before." He waved a finger in an upward motion, and waited for her to take another drink before continuing. "That should dull you down a bit so you don't go out and kill half the school. Why'd you think those curses were banned anyway?" He asked, but didn't give her time to answer. "Power Miss G... Dagworth-Granger..."

"For Merlin's sake Barty, just call me Hermione." She snapped at him.

"Drink." He told her again.

She did so, her glare not quite as harsh as it had been.

"I know you felt it, Hermione, your eyes showed it in that first class; and now it's running right through you, not second hand but straight from your own wand. Power, like I said, with curses like that you have to want to hurt, kill, or control so much that when you do it feeds back into you. Those curses were banned because duellers would get so overcome they'd either run off and kill 'emselves..." he trailed off as a feral grin spread across his face. "Or take out the whole village." He paused again, and motioned her to keep drinking. "It's obvious which you're in the mood for."

Hermione's expression darkened, as her grin grew to match his. Barty didn't let her speak though, commanding her to drink once more. She did, and he continued.

"You need to learn to control that feeling, control yourself; when you can do that, you can start trying to focus it when you need it." He stood up, and took a book off the shelf. "You're excused from classes for the day, I'll inform your professors. Stay in my office till I tell you you can leave, keep drinking till you're calm, and read this." He handed her the book.

Running her hand down the book's spine out of habit, Hermione turned it around and read the title: Guide to Advanced Occlumency. "I've read a bit about this," she said with a faint frown showing. "There's not much about it in the library though. Is it dark?"

Barty's chuckled softly at her again, "Is there anything you haven't read about?" He asked with humour clear in his voice.

"Probably," Hermione shrugged, then grinned at him, "but ask me again after seventh year."

He grinned back and nudged her glass toward her. "No, it's not dark. Obscure though, far from a common magic. Start with the basics: Clear your mind; no thought, no emotion. There's good exercises in there," he tapped the book, "that you won't find in the simpler texts. Read it, practice it every moment you can; even if you're busy with other things."

"Constant vigilance?"

He snorted at her. "Right. Occlumency will not only help you control the effects of Dark Curses Mi-Hermione, it's also to protect your mind. You don't want anyone catching on to what you've been up to do you?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the thought, and she looked down at the book in her hands.

Barty nodded at her, "Exactly."

* * *

"You don't like Malfoy." Hermione said as she was packing things away before dinner. "Why? I thought with his dad being... like you, it just... I don't understand it." She'd probably drunk a little more than necessary to just calm down, and her thoughts were wandering. Plus she now had a bit of a headache from the occlumency practice.

"I'm nothing like him," he snapped. "There's nothing I hate more than a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my Master when he needed them most. I expect he'll punish them, torture them for their betrayal. I hope so, it's nothing less than a traitor deserves." He growled at her, the deep seated hatred echoing in every word. "Lucius will get what's coming to him, I'm sure. Same with that coward of a son of his too." He looked Hermione in the eyes, "No, I don't like Malfoys, any of them: Can't trust 'em, can't rely on 'em. They talk fancy, but they're just worthless, traitorous, cowards the lot of them."

Hermione just nodded, in agreement and understanding; her experiences with Draco matching what he said, for the most part. She slipped the occlumency book into her bag in silence, covering it with some parchment just in case.

Barty, in his Professor disguise as usual, unlocked the door and let her out into the hallway, where they went their separate ways to the Great Hall for dinner.

* * *

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione twitched slightly at the sound of her half-name in the firm, yet kindly and familiar voice of her Head of House.

"Professor Moody told me about the nightmares," the old witch said quietly once she was close enough to keep her tone hushed. "I trust the lessons he gave you today will help?"

"Oh, um, yes. I mean they should, I just... it's..." Hermione kept her eyes down, as she thought wildly, trying to work out just what Professor McGonagall was on about.

Fortunately, the Professor seemed to mistake Hermione's nervous stuttering for something to do with whatever these nightmares were, and rested a hand on Hermione's upper arm in a show of comfort. "I'm sorry you couldn't come to me, and that I put you in that position. We apparently didn't think through the ill effects of the task enough, but the occlumency should help you sleep better before too long - if you pick it up as well as you do most other things." She finished with a faint but warm smile, before dropping her arm.

"Th-thank you Professor." Hermione answered with a small smile of her own. They didn't speak much more, just bidding each other a good night, before Hermione wandered off to her dorm at the Professor's gentle urging.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the Urns sat empty for the first time in months. Hermione was finding the beetles and spiders somewhat lacking now. Oh, they were all well and good for trying out a new spell, but the feel was weak; nothing like the rush she'd felt from Skeeter's death. Having lost interest in the small animals, Hermione studied her occlumency book, and focused more on her family magics.

The occlumency practice had been going well, Barty had told her that her mind now seemed to be at least partially shielded, when she concentrated; though he warned her that he wasn't particularly skilled in legilimency. She could feel the calm he'd spoken of too, emotions locked away, but ready to be let out at a moment's notice.

It had also helped with her studies, she found herself even less likely to be distracted than usual, but still with a sense of what was happening around her. A more organised mind seemed to help in many ways, she thought to herself as she pulled out her volume of Dagworth magics, then turned to the section she'd been reading the night before.

"Fipsy," she called, hoping her elf could clarify some things for her.

The little elf popped into the room wearing a black and green tea towel, "Mistress call..."

Hermione held up a finger to shush the excitable elf. "When I call you, I want you to come promptly - which you already do," she smiled and lay a hand warmly on the elf's head. "And then wait quietly until I speak."

Fipsy's ears flopped about as she nodded, seeming to grow more excited at the idea of the new rule from her Mistress.

Hermione slid the book over to the elf, "I want you to read this, and tell me what you think." She said, and watched as her elf sat down on the ground, pulling the book into her lap. She was pleased to note how carefully Fipsy handled the tome, obviously aware of it's significance. A smile pulled across Hermione's face as she heard the elf talking quietly to herself - something about a "great Mistress" and "being asked her opinion by a witch" - while reading through the pages.

A small frown started to appear on the elf as she read the text, then apparently flicked back to the beginning and read again.

"Fipsy?" Hermione asked, as the elf started to flicker back and forth between pages.

The young elf looked up at her Mistress with a more serious look than Hermione had ever seen, "Mistress, this is elfs magic." She explained after a moment, a hint of confusion colouring her usual bubbly tone.

"Yes, that's why I wanted your opinion on it. Do you think I could do it?"

Fipsy stood up and handed the book back, "Fipsy isn't sure Mistress, elfs magic needs a bond to work."

"But you were able to do it before I bound you to me?" Hermione asked, a little unsure.

The familiar sight of a floppy-eared nod was followed by an explanation. "Fipsy had a purpose, sometimes what Fipsy was told to do by Fipsy's mummy, and sometimes to find someone to serve. But Fipsy always had a purpose, elfs need a purpose to do magic. A bond gives a constant purpose for elfs, but if a elf believes something is important that can work too, as long as it's to help someone else."

Hermione nodded as she took that in, "So..." she paused, putting together exactly what she wanted to ask. "If I wanted to do it just to learn, that wouldn't be enough? But if I wanted to learn so I could help someone, that would?"

"If you was an elf Mistress, yes. But Fipsy doesn't know how it would work for a witch." She seemed a little sad at not being able to answer fully.

A pat on the head was all it took to bring a smile back to the elf's face though. "Thank you Fipsy, you've been a very helpful elf, you can go back to the kitchens and work now."

Dropping a quick curtsey the little elf popped out of the room.

Hermione watched her go with more than the usual intrigue, then turned to re-read the few pages the elf had just helped her with; pondering the idea of a purpose for others, that would help her as much as them.


	10. Rescue

Hermione swore in frustration, and cast a curse at the wall that would have left anyone it hit wishing they were dead. A dark scorch appeared on the wall, with thick black oily muck running down from it.

Three weeks she'd been working on and practicing this, but was still no closer to seeing anything happen. She could pick up most spells in just a few tries, and had won countless house points for just that, as she was regularly the first to successfully cast a new spell in classes. But this magic she'd found in her Dagworth grimoire was frustrating her to no end.

Closing her eyes, she focused on pulling herself back under control, her shoulders relaxing as the hours of occlumency practice helped her ease her mind. A few minutes later, she packed her book and parchment away then left her quiet tower room. Heading to the library, she spent the rest of the morning in the comforting presence of the thousands of books.

* * *

At Lunch, the people sitting at the staff table held a wide range of emotions; the Minister looked stern, eating in silence. Next to him, Madame Maxime looked about ready to cry, while Bagman was sporting a cheerful smile as he chatted to anyone who'd listen. Hagrid, meanwhile kept glancing at the large French witch in concern. While the other Professors were their usual quiet but friendly selves, except Snape who wore his customary sneer.

Hermione sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table where she was mostly ignored. She kept half an eye on the staff table, watching Barty in his Professor disguise as she picked at her food.

When the meal was finished, the Hall grew quiet as Dumbledore stood and announced that the third task would be starting champions were escorted to the quidditch field as he finished speaking, and she watched as they were applauded out of the Great Hall, but didn't join in the celebrations. A few minutes later, everyone in the school followed them; a flurry of whispered conversations ranging from guesses on what the task would be, to bets on the outcome spread throughout the masses.

Hermione followed quietly, keeping to herself as she half-listened to the chattering. Having missed watching the first and second tasks for one reason or another, she wondered if the crowds were always this excitable. But they all settled down some as they found seats in the stands. Hermione kept to herself the best way she could; surrounded mostly by younger students that didn't know her too well.

A knot formed in her stomach as the four champions were lead out on to the field to the entrance of the maze. It twisted a little tighter when Professor Moody stepped out of the entrance and shook hands with each of them.

As Mr. Bagman started the introductions and current place holdings, Hermione watched the boy that had been her friend for several years. She saw Hagrid whisper something in his ear, before walking off to guard the sides of the maze, leaving Harry alone looking around the stands. He waved to someone off to her right; the Weasleys she guessed, having seen them in the castle earlier that day.

Before long a whistle was blown, and a shiver ran up Hermione's back as she watched Harry step into the maze and wondered if that would be the last time she saw him. Her mood cleared a little a few minutes later, as she cheered when Viktor entered the maze. She clapped politely for Fleur, as she too disappeared not long after that.

Once the champions were all in the maze the crowd settled down to watch the task unfold. It was quite boring actually, and she felt her tension ease a little as nothing happened. Occasionally a cheer would erupt from somewhere in the stands, as someone claimed to have seen something. But mostly they all just sat around, watching the dark hedge shrouded in mist; apparently no one had thought of the spectators when deciding on the tasks.

There was a scream an hour or so after the champions had entered the maze, and several Professors rushed toward a section of the maze when sparks shot up in the air. The crowd was on its feet, watching as nothing continued to happen. Then a few noises broke out, and a murmur went through the stands as Fleur was brought out on a stretcher. Hermione thought the blonde was still alive, but couldn't tell for sure.

The knot of nervousness twisted inside her again as she turned to watch the dark quiet maze. After a while the crowd settled down again, as the task went back to it's invisible state. The murmurs never completely settled though, as whispered discussions of Fleur's fate continued.

Another lot of red sparks shot into the air just as the sun was setting, and again the Professors rushed in to find the stricken champion. Before long they came out with another stretcher, this time with Viktor laying on it, unmoving, eyes glazed over. The stands once more burst into a cacophony of noise, as everyone speculated on what had happened: "Is he dead?" "He wasn't moving." "Did you see his eyes?"

An announcement was made before too long to quell the wild rumours starting to circle the stands; he was only stunned, he'd be alright. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and continued to watch as the darkness grew. Torches were lit before the black of night could completely cover the spectators, and the maze.

Hermione huddled into her cloak, casting a quick warming charm on it as the night grew colder. Nothing happened for a while, a cheer went up when someone thought they'd seen the flashes of spell fire. And then there was only quiet, no sounds came from the maze, nor from the waiting crowd as the task continued on.

Then - Hermione guessed it was more than an hour since Viktor had been pulled out - Mr. Bagman was blowing his whistle again, and everyone was on their feet cheering louder than they had in hours. But seconds later a scream broke out from somewhere, and Hermione took in a deep breath knowing what it likely meant.

Already standing, like those around her, Hermione began to make her way forward; she just had to know. It was slow going, as it seemed that everyone wanted to take a look. She was getting close when she heard the murmured conversations picking up into distinct cries and shouts.

"He's dead!" "He's dead!" "Cedric Diggory! Dead!"

Hermione's scream of "What?!" was barely heard by all but a few who were closest to her. She redoubled her efforts to push forward, battling against the jostling crowd, until she finally got close enough to see over someone's shoulder.

"What's happened?" She asked no one in particular, but no answer was necessary: Laying on the grass, eyes gazing into nothingness, was Cedric Diggory; his father clinging to him, wracked with distraught shudders.

Harry was nowhere in sight, though Dumbledore and the Minister were apparently arguing over something, and she heard them mention his name a couple of times. Hermione looked back to the boy on the ground, and felt a swell of emotions at the sight. There was sadness, of course, at the tragic loss, but for a fleeting moment she felt pleased. She wasn't sure if it was because her never-spoken warning would not have done any good anyway, or something else that she couldn't quite work out. But it passed in a moment as anger well up inside her, as thoughts of the dirty half-blood having got yet another decent pure blood killed in one of his quests. It was unfair, a part of her knew that, but she couldn't help wondering who Harry'd get killed next. A friend? Her?

She took a moment to focus on her occlumency, clear her mind, and calm down; it didn't really work though, as she continued to be shoved about by the thickening crowd. With a huff that verged on a growl, she turned and forced her way back through the crowd, and away from the quidditch pitch.

After making her way to a quiet spot overlooking the lake, Hermione sat on the cool ground, pulled her cloak around her, and settled down to calm the thoughts and feelings running rampant within. It worked a bit, not much, but enough that she looked calm had anyone seen her. Inside though was a simmering rage that she could not pinpoint the origin of, she was just angry, but with no real idea why. Eventually she put aside the questions, and just focused on control; at least that was something she knew how to do, to some extent. Control her mind, control her emotions, she tried to ease her mind with the now familiar imagining of the Forbidden Forest. It was dark and quiet, but with danger just on the edges, where she imagined her emotions were; ready to jump out at a moments notice, but not breaking the peaceful calm of her forest while she kept them back.

She wasn't sure how long it had been when she felt ready to head back to the castle. The lights were still shining brightly at the quidditch pitch, so she guess it wasn't too long; though the lights flickering in the castle suggested that some had made their way back to the house common rooms, and dorms.

As Hermione entered the castle and made her way to the Grand Staircase, she felt an unnatural chill run through her, right to her bones. She paused for a moment, then her stomach dropped; she knew that feel, she'd felt it before. "Dementors." She whispered to herself. There was only one reason that she could think of for a dementor to be in the castle; they'd caught Barty.

She begun running up the stairs, not entirely sure where she was heading to, just following the growing chill. Many of the portraits were missing from their paintings, she noticed, and so slowed her pace and stepped carefully into the third floor corridor. A mist was filling the corridor indicating the closeness of the dementor, around the corner she heard slow footsteps.

Creeping along, she peered around the corner to see the dark-robed dementor following behind a portly little man in a bowler hat; the Minister for Magic, she remembered. Stepping back out of sight, she pressed back against the wall and tried to think. A patronus would help with the dementor, but not the Minister. But if she got rid of the Minister - which was probably a bad idea in any case - the dementor would likely come after her.

Poking her head back around the corner she saw the Minister approaching the door, and knew that she had to act now, if she was going to do something to help the Professor that she had come to call a friend - an ally? Shaking her head to clear the distractions away, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the Minister just as he was turning for the door.

"Confundo."

She watched as the charm hit, and the Minister shuddered before looking around in confusion. After a moment he turned and walked further down the hall.

Hermione took her chance while she had it; casting a quick silencing charm on her feet, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, added a shadow charm to hide her face, and ran for Barty's office door. Bursting into the room, she saw someone standing over him, wand drawn and pointed straight at him. His guard spun around at the sound of the door flying open, and Hermione saw Professor McGonagall turn her wand on her.

Knowing she didn't have much time, and not wanting to risk a duel with her Head of House, Hermione felt the last of her hard fought calm snap. Letting everything out, she cursed fast and hard needing to get Barty out before the dementor came for both of them.

"Avada Kedavra!" She roared, not watching the sickly green light of the curse as she dived for Barty. Clamping a hand firmly around a bound arm, she pushed all her concentration into the magic she'd been practicing. Forgetting the failed tries, and the frustration that followed them, she focused everything she had on getting them both out of there.

And with a soft 'pop' they were in the Shrieking Shack, where they promptly fell onto the dusty floor.

Hermione looked around for a few seconds, partly confused at the sudden change in location, but also overjoyed that it had finally worked. Picking herself up, she turned to the tightly bound form of Barty beside her.

"Are you ok?" She asked, and used a quick cutting charm on the ropes.

He sat up and started pulling the ropes off himself, all the while looking at her in awe. "How did you..." He frowned in confusion, "No one can apparate inside Hogwarts, or through the wards." He said with certainty.

"Dagworth magic," Hermione answered him, somewhat mysteriously. "It's blood bound though," she added a few seconds later in hope that he wouldn't want her to teach him. "Can only be used by someone of my blood." It might have been a lie, she only knew the book couldn't be read by anyone outside her bloodline. "Besides it doesn't seem to work all the time anyway." Shaking her head a bit at the past few weeks frustrations, she took off her cloak and through it in the fireplace.

"What..."

"Incendio." The cloak burst into flames. "Don't know if I hit McGonagall or not, but I don't want anyone recognising that when I go back." She looked up to find him staring at her. "What?"

"Doesn't work all the time?" He asked.

"I've been practicing for weeks, that's the first time it's worked."

"What?!"

"Shhh, someone might be out looking for you."

"You side along apparated for your first time!" He didn't quite yell at her. "You could have splinched us..."

"It doesn't splinch!" Hermione interrupted with an almost shout of her own. "It either works or it doesn't, nothing like the apparition the Ministry teaches."

"How do you know that? It's still apparition!"

"Because my family invented it!" She yelled at him properly, then quickly hushed and continued. "I've got the original notes from when it was sold to the ministry. The license fee was originally for the patent license, but we never gave away all our secrets. And now everything in the book is blood bound anyway."

When neither of them spoke for a few moments, she asked him, "Can you get away from here? Do you know where to go?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I know where to find The Dark Lord. First I need to steal a wand from the village..." He trailed off as she pulled a wand from her sleeve and offered it to him. "You'll need that," he reminded her.

"No I won't, it's... uh, a spare."

They shared a grin as he worked out where it had come from.

"Not like she'll be using it anymore." Hermione told him, and he took the wand.

"Thanks," he told her.

"You're welcome, now go!"

"Really," he said in a sincere tone, "thanks."

She didn't get time to answer him this time though, as a moment later he spun on the spot, and with a load crack he was gone.

Soon after, Hermione was making her way down from the Astronomy tower, and heading back to the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, her slightly rumpled look from the night's adventures matched everyone else. So she was able to make her way to her bed without comment from anyone.

* * *

_A/N: something tells me that someone will complain if I don't say this, so: Hermione is not going to be all super with a heap of extra powers, I just wanted to give her something to level the playing field a bit. Harry and Voldemort both have parseltongue, Harry also has his whole blood-protection/immunity-from-the-killing-curse thing as well. So they have a little something extra, and now Hermione does too._


	11. Hints

"... celebrate a boy who was, kind and honest and brave, true, right to the very end." Dumbledore's speech continued on. Hermione looked around at the somber faces in the Great Hall and caught sight of Harry, down the front. He was sitting there, looking at the headmaster with his usual blind awe it seemed, nodding occasionally as the old man went on about the boy Harry had sacrificed to save himself.

She wanted to stay, to honour the good, strong pure blood that had been lost to a half blood's cowardice. But she couldn't stand to sit there and watch the traitor take glory in his fight, while others mourned the loss. Why couldn't he just die like he was supposed to?! She stood up and rushed out of the hall; with her hands covering her seething expression she looked no different to the many others that had rushed out, overcome by grief.

Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to do something, anything, to teach her dirty former friend a lesson. But knew she couldn't; things still hadn't settled from when she'd helped Barty get away. The disappearance of the Durmstrang headmaster had given the Professors a suspect for the 'attack.' Her curse had missed apparently, but in her dive to get out of the way McGonagall hadn't noticed that her attacker was at least a head shorter than the man they blamed.

But knowing she couldn't afford to raise any suspicions by acting rashly, she instead worked on calming herself, again, and made her way to the library. Distracting herself for a few hours with a book of simple charms.

The visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang left later that day, and the whole school gathered to see them off. Tomorrow they'd all be heading home on the train, which cheered a few people up a bit; but the end of term feast was still much quieter than in previous years.

She ducked up to her tower after dinner, just to be sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Between her and Fipsy she didn't think there was much chance of it, but wouldn't feel comfortable till she'd checked. Finding nothing, Hermione was soon making her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"What are you doing?!" She screamed as she walked into her dorm, to find Parvati casting various spells at her Dagworth grimoire.

The raven haired witch jumped back, but it was Lavender that answered. "I just tried to move it so I wouldn't grab it by mistake, but it shocked me," she explained. "Fay laughed like she does, so Parvati dared her to grab it, and then Fay bet Parvati she couldn't get it open."

Hermione ground her teeth at them, "That book is blood bound, no one but me can open or read it; unless I give them permission. And I didn't leave it out Lavender, you're lying."

"No!" She wailed as only Lavender could, "I swear it was..."

"One more spell Parvati, and I'll curse you so hard Padma will feel it." Hermione interrupted in a dangerously low voice, her wand appearing in the blink of an eye as Parvati's pointed at her book again.

"Oh come on Hermione, it was just a harmless bet!" Fay insisted as she stood up from her bed.

"A harmless bet?" Hermione asked as she turned to the brown-haired girl.

"Sure, she didn't mean anything by it, it's just..."

"Just a harmless bet." Hermione interrupted her, "It was an attack on my things Fay!" She paused for a moment, then continued in a calm-sounding tone, "But ok, just a harmless bet... So how about I make one of my own?" She asked, gradually stepping closer to Fay with a mad gleam growing in her eyes. "I bet I can burn your trunk faster than you can protect it." A sickeningly sweet smile cross her face, "What do you say Fay? Care to take the bet?"

"That's enough Granger." A voice called from the door before anything more could happen.

Hermione twitched, and turned to see the 7th year Prefect standing there, with her arms crossed. "Oh come on Melissa, it's just a harmless bet!" She locked eyes with her dorm-mate, "right Fay?"

The brown-haired girl nodded, "r-right."

Melissa gave them all a stern look, but quickly left them alone.

Hermione turned back to her bed, and locked her book in her trunk. "Leave my things alone," she told the room.

"She's mad." Fay whispered when Hermione turned her back.

"Watch your tongue half blood, or it might go missing," Hermione hissed without moving to face them. She then drew her curtains and, casting some quick 'charms', lay on her bed in hope of an early and restful night.

* * *

"Fipsy." Hermione called the next morning before heading down for breakfast. She was already packed, thanks in part to her elf, so this would be the last time she'd see her dorm till the next school year.

The little elf popped into the room a moment later, a smile matching her wide eyes, but keeping quiet as she'd been told to.

"There isn't much for you to do at my house," Hermione said, rubbing her elf's head affectionately. "So I want you to stay here and keep working at Hogwarts. That way you can stay busy, and just come when I call you." She paused a moment, then asked, "Does that still work if we're not both in the castle?"

The floppy eared nod brought a smile to Hermione's face, as her elf answered. "Fipsy can find Mistress wherever she's called from, because Fipsy is bonded with Mistress."

"Good." Hermione told her warmly, "You stay here and keep busy then, and I'll call if I need you."

Breakfast was the usual chaos expected for a bunch of children and teens preparing to go home. People were coming and going regularly, some not even sitting to eat; just grabbing a slice of toast then disappearing again. Hermione took a few minutes to eat a bowl of chopped fruit, before making her way up to her tower to do some last minute clearing up.

There wasn't a great deal to do, she just removed the alarm charms from the doorway at the bottom, and spread some dust about so it was less obvious someone had been up there. She considered putting a light locking charm on the door to 'her room', but decided that'd draw more attention to it than nothing at all. Hermione hoped she could make use of the room again the next year; she certainly wasn't looking forward to another year with the girls in her dorm.

As she was making her way out to the carriages, Hermione paused on the steps of the castle. She blinked a bit, looking at the skeletal reptilian horses with thick leathery wings: "Thestrals." She reminded herself, and continued on her way.

* * *

The train was already under way when Hermione found a quiet compartment to herself, and a quick call to Fipsy had her trunk and Crookshanks in with her. She closed the door, and let him out of his cage; after a quick glare at her, he jumped on her lap and promptly went to sleep. Pulling a book out, she made herself comfortable and settled in for a peaceful ride back to London.

The Trolley Lady was the first to interrupt, "Anything off the trolley dear?"

Hermione bought some pumpkin juice and a couple of cauldron cakes, before returning to her book.

She got another hour or so of quiet before she was interrupted again, this time by a tapping sound. Looking at the door, she couldn't see anyone, so she opened it and stuck her head out into the corridor: Still no one. Growing suspicious, she pulled out her wand and cast a revealing charm: Nothing. With a huff, she sat back down and closed the door.

Tap tap.

Crookshanks, who'd curled up on a seat at the interruption to his sleep, lifted an ear.

Jumping up, Hermione quickly slid the door open and recast the revealing charm: Nothing. With a bit of a growl, she slammed the door shut, locked it and added a silencing spell for good measure, then took her seat again. She sat watching the door for a the next few minutes, daring whoever it was to interrupt her now.

Hermione shot to her feet when the tapping came again, but paused as she reached for the door. Looking behind her she saw an owl outside her window, flying alongside the train with a letter tied to its leg. She sighed and shook her head at her overreaction, and turned to open the toplight windows after slipping her wand away. The owl flew in without fanfare, and she quickly untied the letter from its leg.

The owl didn't stick around as she looked over the envelope, the outside of which had just three letters written on it in a neat hand: HDG. Curious, she pulled the single sheet of parchment from inside. The message was a little odd, but it slowly started to make sense as she read it.

_You should be more careful reaching into something without knowing_  
_what's inside._

_Sorry if things are a bit backward in the end, but I just wanted to send_  
_you a quick note. Firstly, I'm back with my friends, so thanks again for_  
_helping me get back in touch with them. Don't mention it though, that's_  
_the second thing, as far as the world is concerned, nothing much has_  
_changed. Lastly, keep an eye out at the end of your trip, some of the_  
_borders are best avoided if you want a summer to yourself. But I'm sure_  
_with your talents you won't go running through anything that would get_  
_in the way of that._

_JCB_

She read through it a few times as the pieces slowly started to come together. 'A little backwards in the end', the end backwards: JCB, BCJ. Barty Crouch Junior. So he was back with the Dark Lord that meant. Don't mention it? Nothing much has changed? She had to think on that a bit, but eventually guessed he meant not to mention anything about the Dark Lord being back.

That seemed kind of pointless though, surely it would be in the Prophet any day now? Maybe it was just a warning, not to let any know that she knew, that sounded reasonable.

She figured the last bit was something about getting off the train, but couldn't think what the rest of it was about. She slipped the note into her book and pondered it for a while.

Sometime later, she woke up with her book on her lap, still open with the letter laying on top of the pages. Looking out the window into the twilight, she saw a few lights in the distance and decided she'd better change out of her school robes.

The muggle clothes brought back her bad mood, as she remembered what she was going back to. Muggles, how... she couldn't think of the right word to describe them. But it was another summer without magic; one wave of her wand and she'd at least be warned by the Ministry. Her parents would probably try to take her wand off her too.

Tugging at her uncomfortable jumper she already missed the easy fit of her robes. She tried a couple of different places for her wand, eventually settling on just putting up with the lump in her sleeve so it stay where she was used to keeping it.

More lights started showing out of the window, and before long the train was making its final approach for the station. Packing her book away, she locked her trunk and took one last read through of Barty's note. He was obviously telling her something about the platform, but she had no idea what he was on about with the last bit.

She took her time getting off the train and finding a cart for her trunk. An older wizard helped her by levitating it out of the carriage for her, so she thanked him, placed Crookshanks' cage on top, and looked around Platform Nine and Three Quarters. There was no sign of her parents; they were probably waiting for her in the muggle Kings Cross, she guessed.

Not seeing anything else to take note of, she pushed her cart and trunk along toward the exit. There was the usual line at the arch to the muggle station, so Hermione waited patiently for her turn, all the while looking around. It was only when she watched a first year running though the barrier with his parents that the pieces started to come together.

Taking out the note, she read through it again. The first sentence was a clue too, 'reaching into something without knowing what's inside.' 'Backward in the end,' so the start was the end too, and 'with your talents you won't go running through anything that would get in the way of...' '...a summer to yourself.'

"Miss, you're holding up the line." The grumpy looking guard interrupted her thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, can you let some other people through? I just need to check on something." She said distractedly as she stepped off to the side.

He shrugged, and waved a group of people through.

Hermione read through the note several times, wondering what he was trying to tell - or warn? - her. Then in a flash of her usual brilliance, she remembered what she was thinking when she woke on the train: If she used her wand she'd get a warning from the Ministry... a summer to herself, a summer without the Ministry?

The wards on the platform couldn't be putting the trace on students as they leave could it?

She watched another group of people run through the barrier, but didn't see anything happening. Not that that meant anything, she looked at the note again, that first sentence: 'knowing what's inside.' So maybe the wards were inside the bricks, which meant she wouldn't see anything. But people apparated in and out of the platform too, so maybe... regular apparition had to go through wards, you didn't just appear in the new location. So it'd still work if that's what it was. She looked at the note yet again, 'keep an eye out at the end of your trip' it said, not 'keep an eye on the barrier' or borders. Maybe that's what he meant.

She looked around the platform again, but it appeared that anyone that was going to apparate already had. No more help then, she would just have to try it. The only question was how to apparate without anyone seeing? She'd be in trouble for sure if anyone saw her disappear.

"Miss, are you going through or not?" The guard asked her. "You can't stay here all night."

She looked up again at the nearly empty platform, "Oh, sorry. Yeah I'll, uh, I'm going now."

The guard shook his head, and muttered something to himself as she slowly pushed her cart forward. She was just picking up to a jog when she realised how to do it.

She quickly went through the now familiar process of clearing her mind, then pushed all her concentration on being on the other side of the wall.

And with a soft pop she was there. Of course, she couldn't check if it worked without risking a letter from the Ministry anyway.


	12. Dark

_I know it's been a while, but between two dead computers, a natural disaster, and a new job, I've been rather busy. But to make up for it a little this is the longest chapter yet. And as the chapter title suggests, it's rather dark. It's unedited though, as I didn't want to make you wait any longer, so hopefully it isn't too rough._

* * *

The ride home was... tedious. Bumping around in a rattly tin box for over an hour just to go a couple of dozen miles. _Muggles really are pathetic._ Hermione thought to herself, as the two in the front seats prattled on with random inane questions that they probably wouldn't understand the answers too anyway.

Her parents had been rather happy to see her of course; and after her apparent escape from the trace her mood had been lifted so that she hugged them with a smile on her face. Now though... well, there wasn't any way to know if she'd escaped the Ministry's tampering nosiness without risking a letter.

Huffing a bit, Hermione gave another one-word answer to her mother's stream of questions, and turned to look out the window. Her discontent grew as she watched the various muggles pottering about in their dull, mundane, magicless lives; this really wasn't her world anymore.

If it ever was.

"Hermione?"

"What?" She snapped at her mother's interruption to her thoughts.

Her mother jumped a little at her sharp tone, before her eyes softened a little and she asked, "What's wrong sweetheart? You've been awefully quiet."

A Snape-worthy sneer crossed Hermione's features as she answered. "I'm stuck in a rattly tin box with two stinking muggles. What do you think is wrong?"

Her mother gasped, hand rising to cover her mouth; the shock just as much from the look of disgust on her daughter's face, as from her words.

"Hermione! That's enough!" Her father commanded, and Hermione glared at him.

"Yeah, maybe it is." She muttered to herself, and turned back to the window.

* * *

It was dark when the car pulled into the driveway, Hermione shuffled out of the back seat and made her way to the front door in silence. She waited there for a few moments as her parents whispered to each as her father struggled to pull her heavy trunk out.

Quickly growing impatient, she decided to test out her possible avoidance of the trace; it wasn't like a first warning was much to worry about, the Ministry weren't going to send her to Azkaban for opening her front door. Pulling her wand out of her sleeve, she stepped inside after easily unlocking the door; leaving her parents to their hushed argument.

The house was exactly as she remembered it, it was the house she'd spent her childhood in; and yet it was missing something. She'd felt it last summer too, but now after another year at Hogwarts - and having pushed her magical knowledge and abilities far beyond where she was a year ago - the sheer muggleness of this place stood out like a hippogriff in a tutu. Hermione twiddled her wand as she waited for her parents, and contemplated the alien-ness of the house that no longer felt like home.

A little while later a noise behind her drew Hermione's attention back to the outside world, and she turned to see her father struggling to bring her school trunk inside. He'd certainly taken his time about it, with whatever he and her mother had been 'discussing' as she'd come inside; it had been nearly half an hour. She saw her father huffing with her trunk and glared, disgusted; couldn't muggles do anything? She thought for a moment about the lack of an owl all this time after she'd unlocked the door, and with a shrug pointed her wand at her trunk.

Her mother let out a startled yelp - that wasn't quite a scream - a moment later when Hermione's father was suddenly knocked off his feet by the a trunk that seemed to be moving on its own. They both looked at their daughter as the trunk made its way toward her; she stood at the foot of the stairs, a look of bored confidence on her face as she held her wand steady.

They continued to watch in stunned awe, Mr Granger being slowly dragged along the entry hall rug as he still clung to the floating trunk.

"Are you going to let go? Or should I just drop it on you?" Hermione asked when the silence continued on beyond her patience, though a faint flicker of amusement could be heard in her tone.

"I..." Mr Granger started, then stopped as he finally let go of the trunk and dropped the few inches to the ground.

"I thought you couldn't do magic at home?" Hermione's mother asked, seeming to continue her husband's words without much thought.

Hermione's lips curled in a show of distaste, "Oh, a disgusting little mudblood certainly wouldn't be able to do any magic outside of school. But I learnt some interesting things this year; did you know you're fourth cousins?" Her expression shifted to the familiar look she got when she knew something others didn't; but the air of superiority was disturbingly more pronounced than it once was. "It turns out you share a great great great grandfather, Hector Dagworth-Granger."

"That's... " Her mother started, but Hermione interrupted.

"Grandma's maiden name, I know." She paused a moment, as her father stood up. She enjoyed the shocked looks on their faces as she continued, "Hector Dagworth-Granger was a wizard. A Potions Master, one of the best. That's how I found out, I found a book he wrote in the Hogwarts library. Love potions. Shame he didn't use them on his sons; the traitorous swines married muggles." Her face scrunched up in disgust as she spat the word out. "Destroyed 600 years of pure magical blood, introducing that muck. Not a witch or wizard in the family until the line rejoined in me. So now here I am; on the one hand I can trace both sides of my family through 800 years of wizarding blood, but on the other I'm tainted by your filth."

"That's more than enough, young..."

"Silencio!" Hermione cut him off with a wave of her wand; the manic gleam from a few weeks earlier starting to show in her eyes. "You think it's enough? Think you can muddy good magical blood with your stench, and I should just shut up and take it? Is that it, 'enough'?" She stalked closer to her parents as goosebumps rose on their arms. Hermione smiled, "you're scared now, aren't you? Is this enough now? Do you think you've paid enough for two centures of theft?" Her wand pressed against her father's cheek, she could see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Hermione..." her mother started in a shaky voice that was trying for reassuring.

"Subseco lingula!" Hermione snapped in annoyance, giving her wand a quick downward movement - almost a chop - as a familiar rage built inside her, causing her mother to gag on her no longer attached tongue. A moment later her father was in the bonds of an incarcerous; his attempt to jump at his daughter ending in him thudding solidly on the floor.

A disturbing grin slowly shaped Hermione's lips as her wide mad eyes watched her father silently screaming at her while her mother choked on her own blood. "Trying to steal my magic again muggle?" She asked in a tone that sounded far too serene for the scene before her. "It's far from the first time, isn't it? You've been trying for years; taking away my wand, keeping my books in your study - away from me. You've been trying to steal my magic, haven't you? Just like those filthy muggle sluts my traitorous ancestors married, you've been trying to take it for yourself: It's not going to work." Hermione paused a moment, seeming to calm herself from the rage that had been building as she spoke.

"You know what happens to thieves, don't you?" She asked her father, her tone almost conversational now, but with a hard edge that had him shaking in fear as she raised her wand at him again. "I haven't tried this one on a human yet, but if its effects on a toad are anything to go by it certainly works as a punishment. Sanguinis Inflamarae."

Her father's pale skin flushed pink, then red, and he thrashed on the floor as every drop of his blood boiled in his veins. Hermione held him under the curse with a bored expression as his silent screams were hidden by the sounds of his wife choking, a car back firing, and his body thrashing about.

"It's quite fitting, really." Hermione mentioned casually as she released the curse. "Your blood taints my good name, maybe if I burn it enough I can truely reclaim my family's rightful pure status." Her smile softened sickeningly. "Purification by fire as it were, a kind of... trimming... of the family tree." Her expression hardened again as she finished, "clean the filth out once and for all."

She raised her wand again, then paused in thought. "Fipsy," she called after a moment's silence, and before too long the little elf popped into the room. Hermione looked at her adoring servant, pleased. "Gather everything magical in this house and store it away in my trunk. Then hide my things in the garden shed, and return to what you were doing before I called."

"Yes Mistress, Fipsy shall." The excitable young elf replied joyfully, then immediately begun rushing about the house and packing things away. It didn't take long before she popped away with Hermione's trunk and Crookshank's cage, leaving the witch alone with the muggles once more.

"Fipsy is my elf," she explained with a soft almost motherly smile, "she is ever so happy to be bound to me, and serves in any way she can. Even hiding bodies when needed."

Her father's eyes widened, he looked at her as if he'd never seen her before; a stranger in his house, and one he had every right to fear.

"Oh don't look so worried father," she sneered the last word, making him cringe. "I promise after tonight you won't feel a thing." She spun her wand between her fingers for a few moments, before flicking it and binding her mother in the same way as her father. "I don't think she's going anywhere, but it's better to be certain." She spoke mostly to herself, "Now where were we? Purifying the family tree, of course, can't have your muggle filth spoiling a perfectly good line, can we."

With a flick of her wand, her father was thrashing on the ground again, as she put him back under the blood boiling curse. Hermione watched with fascinated glee as pink turned to red, before his skin slowly began to blister and peel, his eyes - wide with pain - slowly softened, and started turning to liquid as his thrashing turned to twitches. She lifted the curse as he continued to twitch; the rise and fall of his chest showing he was still alive, if unlikely to feel anymore for some time.

The curse didn't have the madness inducing qualities of the cruciatus, so while he'd never see again, it was possible that in time he'd recover. If he lived.

"Avada Kedavra." Hermione had no intention of letting him recover, a fact that was highlighted by the green flash of her killing curse. She shuddered as the familiar power of the unforgivable washed over her with a lover's caress. Repeating the curse on the pale blood-soaked form of her mother, Hermione took a few minutes to bask in the glorious power radiating through her, before stepping over their still forms and heading toward the back of the house.

The moment she stepped into the back garden, Hermione turned and sent a fireball into the house; destroying the last of the muggle in her line. She made a promise to herself never to allow a Dagworth to fall to that level again.

She immediately set to work on an alibi, clearing her wand of the unforgivables as she cast numerous under-powered aguamentis, to make it appear that she'd tried to fight the fire without success. She was between spells when her wand was suddenly wrenched from her hand. Spinning where she stood, Hermione found herself face to face with a vaguely familiar man; though his long silver blonde hair and look of arrogant disinterest would have placed him immediately even if she hadn't met him before.

"Mr Malfoy." She greeted him with faint nod, as if he hadn't just disarmed her while she was burning down her parents' home. Though her wide eyes gave away her shock.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was intrigued, he'd heard from his son of this mudblood acting above her station - not to mention her use of an unforgivable on his heir - and had come to put her in her place, so to speak. But he had stumbled upon an interesting scene, one he had not truly seen since the last war; a young witch screaming in hate as she tortured some pathetic muggles in their own home. It seemed the girl was not as she appeared; supposedly a mudblood friend of Potters', yet she clearly held a hatred for muggles, had a good command of the dark arts - including the unforgivables - had her own elf, and was claiming to come from some old line.

He watched as she stepped outside, and set the house alight. However were the Ministry not noticing all this underage magic? And what was she muttering about the Dagworths? That line had died off centuries ago. Granger... Dagworth-Granger? Perhaps, but even if she were a decendant, that made her a half-blood, at best; and he'd heard her speaking of purity. But then it wasn't uncommon for a half-blood to want to reclaim their family's status.

Deciding to get some answers he stepped out of the dark corner of the garden, and promptly disarmed her as she seemed to make deliberately poor attempts to extinguish her own fire. He caught her wand as she turned to face him, and was surprised again by her reaction; while her eyes showed her shock clearly, she greeted him as if her were just dropping by for tea. Raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow, he watched her for a moment longer before returning her greeting.

"Miss Dagworth-Granger, I take it?"

* * *

Hermione nodded in answer to the older Malfoy's question, "Where did you hear that?" She asked, her lineage wasn't exactly common knowledge just yet. But then perhaps he'd heard something from Barty.

He smiled genially at her before answering, "I've been listening to your little bit of... what did you call it? 'Trimming of the family tree?'" He stroked her wand as he waited for her confirming nod. His smile grew a little wider, yet cooler still. "Yes, well, we must all trim our family trees from time to time. Take out that which polutes it, makes it weak." He agreed, "It is quite pleasing to see a young half-blood with..."

"Pureblood." She interrupted him, "I'm no half-blood, I can trace both sides of my family through 800 hundred years of wizarding blood." She paused as he raised an eyebrow again. When he didn't speak, she added, "And you can see any filth in my line has been cleansed."

"That doesn't take care of their taint in you though." He told her with disdainful certainty, but continued before she could comment. "I must say I am most intrigued though, a young witch doing magic in a muggle neighbourhood, and yet there's no sign of the Ministry. How is that?"

Hermione's expression shifted again to the superiour look of someone who knows something others don't. "Surely you know all us older families have out little secrets?" She informed the older wizard.

"Indeed." He replied in the same arrogant tone, before a dark glimmer crossed his eyes. He continued, "But perhaps you'd be willing to share this secret in return for a little help?"

"Help? With what exactly?"

"Tell me how you avoided the trace, and promise not to torture my son again, and in return I can help you with your tainted blood, along with your little innocent act here."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "If Draco calls me a mudblood again he deserves what he gets."

"Quite, but I can have words with him."

Hermione thought it over for a few seconds before nodding in agreement, "Ok, I can't do anything about this summer, as the trace is already on him. But the trace is removed each year while we're at Hogwarts, I can show you and Draco how to avoid it being replaced next summer."

"Very well." He agreed, and offered her wand back.

She took a few moments to look it over, and when she looked back up he had pulled his hood up, and was wearing his silver death-eater mask. She smirked at him.

"Authenticity is important, Miss Dagworth-Granger. Do remember our agreement, won't you?"

"Of cour..."

"Morsmordre!"

She felt the air chill as the Dark Mark formed over her home.

"Now they'll never suspect you." He told her simply. "So now I just have to take care of your taint."

Hermione frowned, "But how..."

"Crucio!"

Pain. Stabbing burning pain erupted in every cell of her body. She might have screamed, though she couldn't be sure, as the world narrowed down to the searing pain and nothing else.

An unknown time later the pain lifted, she thought she could hear voices and spell fire around her. Then someone was touching her face, and talking to her; she groaned and looked up into dark eyes before slipping into welcome unconsciousness.


	13. Darker

**At last! I finally have another chapter for you.**

St. Mungo's actually had a whole ward for those suffering the effects of dark curses; Hermione was the only one in it. That was both a good thing and a bad thing, though she wasn't really sure what was good and what was bad. Apparently she'd been unconscious for a full day, during which time the healers had filled her with potions of every imaginable kind. Well, maybe not every imaginable kind. Despite it all she was feeling worn out, and a little twitchy.

She'd awoken to a mediwitch hovering over her, which quickly became two mediwitches and a healer when she opened her eyes. They'd then poked and prodded at her, all while casting an assortment of charms over her, asking nonsensical questions - how did they think she felt? - and giving her more potions to drink.

Hermione suspected she'd get well a lot sooner if they left her alone.

But now she was alone and ignoring the phial of dreamless sleep next to her bed while trying to think. She was going to have to practise duelling, and learn to cast faster, and certainly not let her guard down as easily as she had. A war was brewing, the Dark Lord was biding his time... and apparently she'd picked a side.

Maybe that could be useful though, she could get in touch with Barty for some help with duelling. He'd certainly made a good professor - for her at least - at Hogwarts last year. Maybe they'd let her practise some curses on Malfoy, either of them. There was a bone to pick there; but at least they were pure-bloods.

She was just drifting off to sleep when a healer came in and insisted on her taking the dreamless sleep potion. Seconds later she was fast asleep.

* * *

The next morning Hermione was thoroughly confused, she had awoken to the sounds of an argument just outside the door. After a few minutes a frazzled looking mediwitch came in and checked her over. She was quick and methodical in her tasks, before offering Hermione a flat lipped smile that just barely wasn't a grimace and telling her "You've got visitors."

Hermione didn't need to ask who, as just moments after the older witch had shuffled out the door a witch and wizard in scarlet robes entered her room. After she'd corrected her name - and explained about the lineage test when they'd asked about that - the two Aurors had proceeded to question her thoroughly on the night of the 'attack' on her parents home. Having just woken up worked to her advantage to some extent, as she hadn't had to fake confusion as much as she otherwise would have. On the other hand Auror Tonks' hair seemed to shift colour at random, while Auror Peters had winked at her and rubbed his left forearm.

She still had no idea what to make of that. Was he trying to tell her he was a follower of The Dark Lord, and knew the story? Some of his questions had been almost leading her: "You were trying to put the fire out with Aguamenti when you were hit in the back by the Cruciatus?" Or perhaps he was suspicious of her and trying to get her to slip up: "Was there 2 or 3 of these supposed Death Eaters?" Maybe it was neither and he just had an itch?

Whatever it was, she was just glad the hurried mediwitch had come back in and made them leave before too long. Though she suspected it may have been over an hour. So she was left with a plate of sausages and eggs, and a thousand questions to ponder over. At least the rest of the day was quiet.

The next day started much the same, the two Aurors came back; supposedly just to clear some things up. But as they were leaving, Peters slipped something into her hand as he shook it, and Tonks mentioned that she was looking after Crookshanks, and that Dumbledore had arranged somewhere for her to stay "now that her parents were gone." Hermione's wide eyed silence probably looked like that of a shocked teen, as she tried to get her head around the fact that the two Aurors appeared to be on complete opposite sides.

She wondered if either of them were loyal to the Ministry at all.

She spent the hours until lunch puzzling over the slip of parchment that had been slipped into her hand. "Tap tap, the last place you saw me." What was that supposed to mean? When she finally worked it out she shook her head in shame, who else would send her cryptic notes? Tapping the parchment twice with her wand, she said "the shrieking shack," and the parchment grew in size till it looked to be a page torn from a journal.

She snorted a laugh at the first words, then settled down to read.

_Bet that took you a while._  
_Peters is only a half blood, don't let him give you any trouble, he has_  
_his uses as an owl but he's new and stupid, I doubt he'll be around long._  
_Malfoy was punished rather heavily for putting the Dark Mark over your_  
_parents' house; The Ministry are denying The Dark Lord's return, and he_  
_sees no reason to make anyone think otherwise. Better to quietly build_  
_our numbers back up while no one's paying any attention._  
_I'm telling you this because he is quite impressed with your work in_  
_cleansing your family line, and I must say that he's not the only one._  
_Don't let the fact you had to do it get you down, The Dark Lord himself_  
_admits we all have to trim the weak parts out from time to time in order_  
_to keep our families strong._  
_I have some things to discuss with you that can't be put in a letter, so_  
_when you get out of there buy an owl and send me a message._  
_The parchment was soaked in Menson's Burnclear, so get rid of it now that_  
_you've read it._

_Barty_

Hermione read through the note again in case there were any hidden meanings, not finding any she set it alight with a silent Incendio; it left no ash, the flames consuming it entirely. She spent the rest of the day puzzling over what Barty could want to talk to her about, while sneaking out of bed to stretch her legs when the healers weren't about.

* * *

The days that followed were slow and drawn out, she was feeling fine - or at least considerably better - and kept sneaking out of bed when she thought no one would notice. Of course she was caught a few times by an upset mediwitch or wizard who would demand she got back in bed "this very instant." She thought things might be a little less dull when she managed to convince one of the healers to get her something to read. But old copies of Witch Weekly weren't exactly what she had in mind.

Still, it was better than nothing, and they weren't that old. She resolved to try out a new hair potion that claimed to "tame wild hair for up to three months with a single use." And there were also some nice looking boots at Gladrags she wanted to check out when she was released. But the thing that really brought a smile to her face was a small article about their missing gossip columnist Rita Skeeter. There was even suggestions that Dumbledore was involved, as part of whatever he was doing with this nonsense about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

While that amused her to no end, it probably wasn't the best thing to be thinking of when the old fool waltzed into her Hospital room late Friday morning. She had to fight to keep the smirk off her face.

He watched her for a few moments with that damned inscrutable sparkly-eyed look of his, before reaching into his robes and pulling out a small paper bag.

"Lemon drop Miss Dagworth-Granger?" He asked by way of greeting, holding the bag out to her.

"No, uh, thankyou Professor. How, how do you know about my name?" She asked somewhat confused; she certainly hadn't told him.

He smiled at her, then flicked his wand to conjure a chair, and sat down before answering. "You informed the Aurors, who updated your records at the Ministry. They of course informed me, as Headmaster of Hogwarts; though it was entirely unnecessary as Miss Tonks had already let me know." He popped one of his sweets in his mouth and leaned back in his chair, sucking away happily.

"She's looking after Crookshanks." Hermione said of Tonks, before shaking her head and sitting up straighter in her bed. "Sorry Professor, I'm sure you didn't come here just to talk about a change of name and a cat."

"Pleasantries and small talk are becoming a lost art Miss Granger," he informed her as she twitched at the name. "We mustn't forget them. However you are quite right: I have arranged for temporary guardianship of you until school returns, at which time it was agreed your head of house will take on the roll."

Hermione thought of protesting, as no one had spoken to her about the matter. But just frowned faintly instead as the old wizard continued on, seemingly oblivious.

"As the healers have released you, I've come to show you to your home for the next few months. It's owned by a mutual acquaintance of ours, so I'm sure you'll settle in nicely. Especially as your friends the Weasleys will be coming to stay in a few weeks, and likely Mister Potter," Hermione twitched, "as well before we all head back for another year at Hogwarts."

He seemed quite pleased with himself, and lacking any other firm offers Hermione accepted and thanked him. A healer came in not long after, and officially released her to the Headmaster's care. She was given a few minutes alone to change into some simple robes which Auror Tonks had apparently supplied for her, as Dumbledore settled things with the healers.

Then before she knew it she was taking the Headmaster's arm and being squeezed through a garden hose.

* * *

The apparition her family had sold to the masses was ever so primitive, Hermione thought to herself as she fought to keep her stomach inside where it belonged. She was kneeling on the rough patchy grass of the small square they'd appeared in, swallowing repeatedly as she tried not to fall over completely. Dumbledore stood tall beside her, acting all mysterious and powerful; as if he'd just done something more spectacular that she couldn't teach a first year.

The houses surrounding them were run down and many looked abandoned. Peeling paint and broken windows were everywhere, with piles of rubbish covering many of the houses' front steps. Hermione was just about to ask what they were doing in such a dump when the Headmaster handed her a small note.

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion, but she read it nonetheless, it didn't help her confusion at all. It said:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number_  
_twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

"What's the Order of the... ?" Hermione began to ask as she looked up, but stopped as her eyes caught sight of the houses in front of her. A new door was pushing its way out between numbers eleven and thirteen. She stared in wonder as the door was followed by more grimy walls and unwashed windows, and before long a whole new house had appeared out of nowhere.

"If you'd care to step inside Miss Dagworth-Granger, we'll acquaint you with your new home for the holidays." Dumbledore spoke cheerily as he made his way across the street.

Hermione scrambled to her feet and followed him. Opening the door, she stepped into the shabby entrance of the run down old house. "This is your headquarters?" She asked the Professor in disbelief, but didn't get a reply as the curtains flew back from a painting which started screeching obscenities at a volume Hermione hadn't heard a painting reach before. She jumped, startled, and turned to look at the painting as Dumbledore continued into the house, as if he hadn't even noticed the sudden mayhem that had broken out.

The frame was as shabby as the rest of the house appeared to be, but the portrait it held was immaculately kept. The woman in the painting seemed to pause a moment as Hermione's eyes met hers, her hair lost it's wildness, and her posture straightened up to a more regal, respectful, pose. Then, with a faint nod of her head, she resumed her rant as quick as she'd paused it; without returning her gaze to Hermione.

Hermione turned away as Sirius ran in and started tugging at the curtains trying to hide the screeching portrait of Wulburga Black - as the polished brass plate beneath the frame declared her to be. The screaming rant reached new heights - in volume and vitriol - when Sirius told the portrait to "shut up you old hag" as he yanked on the curtains. Silence settled over the hall as he finally pulled the curtains closed.

"Sorry," he said with a huff, "that's my mother. She wasn't all there in life either."

Hermione nodded as she looked at the haggard man before her, before a thought brought a faint tugging to her lips. She answered him, "and yet if you'd listened to her you wouldn't have just spent ten years in Azkaban." Not waiting to see if he had a response to that, Hermione turned and followed after Dumbledore.

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore's personal little club for fighting The Dark Lord, Hermione discovered. She was just beginning to wonder what more she could learn about it, when she was shut out of the kitchen while they had a meeting. Standing at the door for a few minutes she tried to listen in, but failed to hear anything but nonsensical mutterings and decided to explore the house.

She was just rounding the stairs near the entrance hall when her eyes caught the curtains covering Sirius' mother's portrait, pausing for a moment, she walked over and pulled the curtains back.

The witch in the portrait seemed to arch back and prepare to scream and rant but then stopped, mouth closing to a thin line as she looked around the entry hall before settling her steely eyes on the room's sole occupant.

Hermione took half a step back before stopping herself and straightening up to match the late witch's gaze. Walburga Black smiled.

"You're not at all like those disgusting muggle-loving traitors in the other room." The portrait stated in a quiet knowing voice, laced with a hatred Hermione was beginning to know well. "Oh, they may think you're one of them, but I know that you're not."

Hermione opened her mouth to... protest? But nothing came out before Walburga continued.

"I can see it in your eyes dear," her smile widened, "it is ever so nice to see a burgeoning young dark witch again after all these years." The portrait paused, and her eyes took on a plotting look. "Perhaps we can be of use to one another."

"How?"

Walburga's nose scrunched as if she'd smelled something particularly vile. "Those traitors in the other room are doing their best to defile this house, they plan to purge the library of it's many volumes of dark magic. That half blood Auror has Black blood in her - her mother was cast out for marrying a mudblood - and she may be our last hope of returning the House of Black to it's great status." Pure revulsion poured from her as she finished, "If she can keep her eyes off that filthy half-breed they've let in to my home."

"You want me to protect the half-blood by killing the wolf?" Hermione asked trying to work it all out in her head.

"I don't care about the half-blood!" Walburga snapped, "Once she's given a pure heir and named him Black she's of no further use. But I'm greatly restricted in what I can do, help me out and I'll gift you the Black library. I can tell you how to handle the cursed books so you may study and move them. They need to stay with someone who can appreciate them, not destroy them."

Hermione thought for a moment, then smiled disturbingly as she stepped closer to the portrait. "My own family's library is lacking in the darker arts, but we have always been quite talented with love potions; I can ensure your heir easily." Her eyes darkened considerably as she continued, "The half-breed will be out of the picture very soon. You just be sure to uphold your end of the bargain with the library."

Walburga shivered at the clear menacing threat in the young witch's words and tone, before her lips pulled up in a smile of joy laced with a dark madness. "With pleasure Miss..." The portait paused, and narrowed her eyes at the young witch before her. "What is your name?" She asked with a tinge of suspicion, as the kitchen door opened and the sounds of people leaving the meeting floated up the stairs.

"Hermione Dagworth-Granger." Was Hermione's whispered response, as she quietly made her way up the stairs to her room. A moment later her smile grew as she heard Walburga begin screaming at the Order members. Stepping into her room she sat on the bed and ran her hands over Crookshanks' soft fur. before calling for Fipsy. There was much to do.


End file.
